


As the World Falls Down - Rising Tide

by LiteraryRhapsody



Series: As the World Falls Down [1]
Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-03-31 20:39:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 288,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13982916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteraryRhapsody/pseuds/LiteraryRhapsody
Summary: It has been six years and Jareth has been unable to forget “the girl who ate the peach and forgot everything.” Unfortunately for Sarah, she hasn’t been able to forget either. When she returns to the Underground, Sarah is determined to turn her back on her destiny. But circumstances keep pulling her back to the Labyrinth and its enigmatic king. Sarah and Jareth must navigate the treacherous political waters of the Court against a backdrop of impending war. Hampered by a traitor with access to dark magic, and haunted by the words of a prophecy that heralds doom for both of them, can Sarah and Jareth come together to meet the rising tide of evil that threatens to overwhelm both their worlds?





	1. Regrets and Rumors in the Dark

This story is cross posted on FFN. There may be some slight changes, but I've not changed the basic storyline, or any major plot points. So, if you've read it over there, you can jump to where you left off with no problems. :)

Fair warning: This work is a long, slow burn. It is also a trilogy. That being said, settle in and enjoy! It's gonna be a wild ride full of heroism, treachery, adventure, love, disaster, prophecy, friendship, and lemons!

* * *

He knew the moment that she became aware of his presence in the doorway. Their eyes met and he felt the connection- like a small bolt of lightning that went straight to his heart. He hadn't wanted things to go this far. Jareth would much rather have avoided this final battle of wills between himself and this stubborn young mortal. She just kept pushing! Never beaten. Always goading him on. It was as if she relished him in the role of the villain, and he was helpless to refuse her. Although, in his arrogance, he claimed that he would move the stars for no one, he would for her. For this girl, he would move heaven and earth to win a single smile. He mentally prepared himself to match wits with this infuriating female. He would have her, to think anything else would be admitting defeat. And defeat, for the spoiled and arrogant king, was simply inconceivable. Slowly, he emerged from the shadow of the doorway, his eyes never leaving her face. He paused and waited for her to make the opening salvo in the final battle of their private little war.

"Give me the child..."

As they sparred with each other, trading verbal ripostés as neatly as a pair of fencers, they were unaware that they had attracted an audience. From the blackness, a being of darkness and hate watched them with more interest than it had shown in anything since that day, eons ago, when it had been locked away to languish in it's dark prison.

At first it had howled out threats and promises of swift and terrible punishment for those who dared to imprison him. Then, he raged against the walls of the prison itself, until he grew to accept the fact of his physical captivity. Eventually, he had discovered the flaw in his prison. The Old Ones had obviously been unaware of it, or thought it too minute to be of any consequence.

On the far wall of his subterranean prison was an uncut gemstone. It had taken many years and a great deal of effort, but he had managed to wrest the stone from the wall. Another millenia passed while he cut and polished the stone, using nothing but his teeth, nails, and the rocks around him.

When he was finished, a vibrant, glowing emerald sat in his clawed hand. Gradually, he learned to use the gemstone to focus his attention on the world that had forgotten him. He saw that the Old Ones had long since perished, leaving many of their creations behind to rule the world in their place. He learned that the world he had known was no more. Instead of the single unified world that had defeated him, there was now division. The Fae and their ilk, elder creations of the Old Ones, now dwelled in a place that they called the Underground, along with magical creatures of all kinds. The humans, youngest and most chaotic of the old ones spawn, were left to populate the Aboveground.

At first, he merely watched, learning all that he could of the various races that the Old Ones had made after he was locked away and forgotten. Slowly, he attempted to influence the things he saw through the emerald. His first attempts were faltering, and met with failure more often than success. Gradually, he gained skill. As he did, the havoc he was able to wreak on the unsuspecting children of the Old Ones was very satisfying.

As his influence grew, he began to formulate a plan. A plan that would finally free him from this hated prison once and for all. He waited for the right moment, the right beings to put his plan into motion. He watched the birth of the Fae king, and centuries later, that of the mortal girl. He saw their connection to each other the moment she was born and knew that they were the ones. They were his ticket to freedom. All he had to do was manipulate the right people, push events in just the right direction, plant the right ideas at the right time.

As he watched their meeting in the Underground, he silently cheered the girl on as she resisted the king. He needed them apart, their connection was important, but their separation was vital at this stage.

"...Kingdom as great..." she whispered, turning away. Jareth felt a wild surge of hope, although he carefully schooled his face so as to show little emotion. Perhaps she would not continue. Perhaps she was not such a slave to the words written in that stupid book. "Damn," she said. "I can never remember that line."

Jareth held up the crystal in his hand. "Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave." He was begging now. Pleading with her, not to crush him. Trying to keep her from leaving the Underground, the Labyrinth, and leaving him utterly broken.

"My kingdom is great... my kingdom is great..."

Jareth waited in dreadful suspense, afraid to say anything. Almost afraid to move, lest he shift the delicate balance too far in her direction and she utter that one line that would undo everything he had worked for. All his plans and all his dreams could come to fruition in this moment, or they could be irrevocably shattered. He felt the unaccustomed sensation of tears pricking his eyes as he waited. She was so beautiful, so amazing and strong… And then she looked up at him, and he knew. It was over. He had gambled and lost, for the first time since he had come to his throne. Almost in wonder she spoke the words.

"You have no power over me."

The laughter of the dark being echoed off the walls of his prison. So it began!

* * *

"You have no power over me".

"No power over me".

"No power over me".

"No power..."

"NO!" Jareth bolted awake, with the scream still on his lips. He was dripping with sweat, as he always was when he was visited by this old nightmare.

Why, he thought bitterly, why must I relive this every few nights? Why can I not put these feelings behind me? It was over six years since that fateful night when Sarah Williams slipped through his grasp. Six long years since his heart was ripped from his chest.

Jareth was a changed man. No longer did he take joy in being the all powerful Goblin King. He no longer sat in his throne room, surrounded by carousing goblins. He appeared more and more rarely at the gatherings of the other Fae in the various Realms. His temper grew ever more uncertain and distant. Even those who had previously counted him among their friends tended to avoid him. He took to locking himself in his private chambers and brooding over his crystals. Crystals that, more often than not, contained images of Sarah. He endlessly replayed their interactions in his mind, looking for the place where he had gone wrong. Trying to figure out why she had rejected him, what he could have done differently. He frequently left his duties undone, both those duties as King and those as caretaker of the Labyrinth began to slip. His kingdom began to crumble beneath him, and the Labyrinth slowly started falling into disrepair despite its magic. Tongues began to wag and the rumor mill ground on about Jareth, the Goblin King. Rumor had it that he was pining away with unrequited love. Rumor did not know that half of it. Indeed, he had very carefully hidden Sarah's existence away, altering the memories of all but a few of his subjects. He needed no interference from the other Fae. Jareth moved from his bed to the window that overlooked the city and thought back once again, over everything that had happened.

He had first become aware of Sarah on her twelfth birthday. He was not entirely sure what drew his notice to her as he flew through the park in the mortal realm, the same park where she liked to practice her plays. Once he saw her however, he quickly realized that this was no ordinary mortal girl. For one thing she was beautiful, and something about her was almost, magnetic. He spied several faery creatures in the park and almost all of them seemed to be watching the young girl intently. He could see that she was as oblivious to their attention as she was to him. She was graceful and confident as she play acted for her shaggy dog.

He might still have dismissed her, despite the pull she exerted on him, until he noticed the small, red, leather volume on the park bench with her other things. The book blazed with the magic of the Labyrinth. He almost fell out of the tree he had been perched in when he saw it. It was impossible that she could be in possession of this book. This book spoke of him and his realm in a very detailed manner. He would have sworn that all copies of this book had been destroyed or locked away for safekeeping years ago. How then, had she gotten it? He was relieved, but puzzled, to find that the contents of the book seemed to have somehow been altered into a play, a fairy tale, that she was rehearsing. It was now a book about how he and his goblins took wished away children from the mortal realm and brought them to the Underground. It told a story of how a young princess wished away her baby brother in a moment of pique, and then heroically ran the Labyrinth in order to get him back. She seemed to understand the book in a way that very, very few mortals would have been able to in that day and age. Magic, fantasy, and fairy tales were largely discounted and openly disbelieved by almost all mortals above the age of ten. Jareth had found it charming that her faith in such things was so strong. Particularly her absolute certainty that he himself existed.

As he watched her grow over the next few years, he perceived that her life was not exactly a happy one. Jareth saw that there was no love lost between Sarah and her stepmother. Through his scrying he learned that her father was too caught up in his new wife, and later his new son, to spare much time for his daughter. Especially for a daughter that reminded him so much of his first wife. Although Richard Williams loved his daughter, she was too like her mother for him to be especially close to her.

He saw that Sarah had few friends, preferring instead to spend time with her dog, her books, and her costumes. Jareth watched as she invented elaborate fantasy tales, most of which centered around the Fae and the Faery Realms. No matter how many new stories she invented, her favorite remained the story in which a heroic princess saved a baby from the evil Goblin King. That slim, red volume went with her everywhere. Several times, Jareth considered removing the book from her possession, but always put it off. It did not seem to be giving her any harmful information and he was unwilling to reveal himself to her, even for something so important as that book. The High Council would have him dragged in to explain himself if he revealed himself to a mortal who had NOT summoned him. Rules were rules after all. It certainly wasn't something that he could trust to his goblins either. They had a habit of bungling every task he set them to. So Jareth contented himself with simply watching, either through his crystals or in the form of the barn owl.

At first he told himself he was just keeping an eye on the book and waiting for a chance to get it back. After all, he reasoned, it was too dangerous for him to leave it in the hands of a mortal girl. She might learn too much! After a while though, he had to be honest enough with himself to admit that that excuse was wearing a bit thin. He could, in all honesty, have removed the book from her room while she slept on any number of nights. He watched her because he enjoyed watching her. She intrigued him. There was something about her that was unlike all of the other girls in the mortal realm. Something that set her apart. He noticed that other Fae creatures took more than a passing interest in Sarah Williams as well. She seemed to be constantly surrounded by goblins, fairies, nixies, corrigans, dryads and even some of the darker Fae. She was oblivious to it all, of course, but still, he couldn't seem to stay away.

Then came that night, the night she wished away her half brother Toby. He finally had a chance to go to her. After watching her for three years he thought that he knew her well. He was well acquainted with her stubborn streak and with her pride. He knew her loneliness and her struggles with her stepmother. He knew her wish that her father cared more about her. All in all, he thought he knew her very well.

"Oh how wrong I was." He groaned to himself, closing his eyes briefly against the pain that was as fresh as it had been six years ago. He was learning to work with the pain, or at least around it during the day. At night though, it always came back along with the dream, gnawing a hole in his chest as surely as his Dream Hounds chewed bones.

He went to her to fulfill her wish and his duties as the Goblin King. He was intimidating and condescending, as befit his role, but also much much kinder than he usually was to those mortals who summoned him. He knew it hadn't seemed that way to her. He had appeared harsh and cruel, but that was the way the story portrayed him. It was what she had expected of him, so he fulfilled that expectation. He went to her, fully predicting that he could subdue her stubborn spirit and make her love him. He expected to easily wrap her in his spell, but somehow she twisted it around until she was the one that had him wrapped up neatly. Right around her slender fingers. By the time they had their final meeting in that strangely fractured room the Labyrinth created in his palace, he was hopelessly lost to her, and she viewed him as the enemy.

Angrily, Jareth turned from the window, fighting to keep from lashing out and breaking something as his thoughts whirled in a familiar pattern. "Where did I go wrong? How did I get myself into this mess?" He walked over to a side table where several decanters and glasses stood. With hands that shook, he poured himself a drink and then, with a strangled sound that was more a sob than anything, Jareth sank down on the couch in front of the fire, and hung his head. Since she had left his realm, he had only been able to get brief glimpses of her in his crystals. Nothing more concrete was available to him for some reason- just little snatches that did nothing but enflame him and leave him unfulfilled. He alternated between despair and rage at this. How dare she hide from him! All he could see were small scenes, which he set to playing over and over in his crystals, looking for some way to get her back, some way to heal his heart. Some way to return the other half of his soul to where she belonged. At his side.

Unseen by the Goblin King, silvery black eyes had watched his every move from the shadows in the corner. As Jareth sat, brooding on his couch, a tiny shadow separated itself from the larger ones that inhabited the corner, and slipped out the window. The shadow sped away into the night. It was late for a meeting.

* * *

The dank cavern dripped with water. It ran down the walls and dripped from the stalactites into the quiet pools on the floor. Every plink echoed hollowly throughout the cave system. There were no other sounds. Chiara shivered in the dank chill. Her small wings fluttered as she hovered next to the pool that was the appointed meeting place. She was glad that she didn't have to set foot on the slimy looking ground.

The minutes seemed to stretch out forever as she waited for her master to appear. Chiara flitted about, holding a tiny lantern up as she peered down side passages. The flickering lights caused by her swinging lantern mader her dark skin disappear and then appear against the darkness that surrounded , her large pointed ears caught the sound of footsteps approaching the cavern. To her bat-like ears, the footsteps of the man she served sounded loudly in the nearly complete silence of the cave.

Quickly, the Nyxie darted back toward the pool at the center of the cavern and placed her small lantern in a niche, conveniently carved by untold ages of drips, on a stalagmite at the side of the pool. Then she waited, nervously rubbing her pointed fingers over her scalp, for the Fae who employed her. He wasn't someone that she wanted to cross, ever.

She was silent as she watched the light from a much stronger lantern steadily approach. The shadows danced from wall to wall as the lantern swung with every step the man took. Chiara's silvery eyes narrowed as she watched him approach. Like all Fae, he was slender and graceful as he picked his careful way across the rubble strewn cave floor. He wore his usual dark clothes and a black cloak that covered him from head to foot. She had never seen him in anything else. His boots made surprisingly little sound as she watched him wind his way between the pools.

The man stopped several feet from the Nyxie and set his lantern down on a boulder. As the light from his much larger lantern washed over her, Chiara had an almost unbearable urge to disappear back into the shadows. She quivered in anxiety, but ruthlessly quashed the very natural impulse to hide, both from the light and from the Fae that stood before her. Nyxies were creatures of the night who were far more comfortable in the shadows. Light made their eyes sting and smart. A cruel smile spread across the face hidden in the deep hood as he welcomed her discomfort. He paused for a moment to savor the fear that he could sense rolling off the small faery in waves. Then, he raised his slender, white hands up to grasp the sides of his hood and lowered it. Chiara saw just a brief glimpse of his feathery dark hair and piercing blue eyes before she bowed low before him.

"My Lord."

The fae sneered down at her but said nothing. She dared not move from her posture of reverence until he spoke. Past experience had taught her to speak only when spoken to, and to make herself as unobtrusive as possible while in his presence.

"So. I see that the lesson in humility I was forced to administer last time has been remembered." His rich baritone voice washed over her, causing Chiara to shudder inwardly. The evil undertones in that voice were impossible to miss, despite its beauty.

Only when he finished speaking did Chiara dare straighten from her bow. However, she was careful not to raise her eyes higher than the clasp on his cloak. "Yes, my Lord." She kept her voice even and respectful despite the deep fear that gripped her.

The dark haired man was silent for a moment. It seemed to Chiara that he was almost waiting for her to do something wrong, simply for the enjoyment of punishing her. She well remembered the punishment she received last time.

_Chiara screamed, her voice a high pitched shrill as she was engulfed in a crystal. Shot through with swirls of black and red that vied for dominance, the crystal surrounded her and cut off any means of escape.. Vicious magical hands, made of the same swirling evil as the crystal, grabbed her gossamer wings and twisted them cruelly. She was sure that this time he would cripple her. Frantically she attempted to use her own small magic to combat his, but it was futile._

_"Please!" She screamed in agony. "Great Lord... have mercy. Please!"_

_His only reply was a chilling laughter and an escalation in the severity of her punishment. His magic burned her as she struggled within the crystal, her small screams echoing back from distant caverns._

_She was on the edge of losing consciousness when he finally spoke. His voice was flat and completely without emotion. Chillingly, he had gone from maniacal laughter to deadpan in an instant._

_"The next time we meet, I expect that you will show me the respect I deserve. I own you...slave." She suddenly dropped to the ground as his magic released her. The last thing she heard before she blacked out was the sound of his boots hitting the ground as he left the cavern._

With a discernable effort that clearly pleased her master, she wrenched her thoughts back to the present. The dark haired Fae smiled knowingly at the tiny figure before him and raised his hand slightly, as though he were going to conjure up another crystal to inflict yet more torture on her. Releasing a gasp, Chiara cowered slightly and fluttered even closer to the floor than she had been initially. The man laughed, revealing teeth that appeared to be more like fangs than normal Fae teeth.

"Very good, little one. What have you to report to me this time?"

In halting tones she began her report: All was as it had been for the past several years. No one seemed to know anything of what had happened to the one who had defeated the Labyrinth. Chiara had heard that some rumors claimed it was a young girl. Others said that a little boy named Toby had run the Labyrinth, and that he had been very young. The Goblin King continued to display the odd behavior that had started when he had been defeated. The gossips among the servants speculated that he was in love, but as no young women visited the Castle beyond the Goblin City, and the King himself rarely left his rooms unless directly needed, the Nyxie didn't put much stock in that particular rumor. No one unusual came to see him, although his mother had been to see him about a month ago. They had gone riding for the afternoon and Chiara had been unable to keep pace with the horses. Her master grunted in disapproval of that, so she hurried on. The Goblin King still spent an inordinate amount of time staring into crystals when he was not engaged in the business of running the kingdom, which he was finally getting back to doing again after his mother visited.

"What does he see?" The dark man interrupted her to ask.

"I... I don't know, my Lord. I am never able to get close enough to see." The admission was difficult to make. Her very life could be riding on the information she brought him and her master was decidedly not a forgiving man. She unconsciously flinched away from his gaze.

His eyes narrowed. "Perhaps you have outgrown your usefulness to me. Do I need to find a more effective spy?" Chiara's eyes widened in fear and he chuckled. "Hm. No. You are still useful. Even though you cannot tell me anything new about Jareth." The way he said the Goblin King's name was as though that name was the worst curse in any tongue the Nyxie had ever heard, especially considering she had once heard an Orc wax poetic about his hate for his clan chief. Orcish was a terrible tongue to listen to, full of snarling and spit, but it lacked the sheer malevolence that this man injected into those two syllables.

Not for the first time, Chiara bemoaned the fact that she had been careless enough to fall into this man's power. She waited quietly, listening to the water dripping and the harsh breathing of her master. She knew if she stepped out of line at this moment, it would be last thing she ever did.

He considered the information she had brought him for some time and weighed it against her shortcomings. The darkness, always her friend before, seemed to press against Chiara as though it intended to smother her. Finally, his cold blue eyes fell on her once again, and she was relieved to see that he was at least marginally in control of his temper.

"Continue." he stated tersely.

"He still has nightmares, my Lord, and this time I witnessed him openly crying while alone in his room at night." She waited while he absorbed that piece of news. It was the best piece of information she had to give him this time. She was sure that her master would be pleased to hear that the Goblin King was suffering. She was correct in her assessment. When he gestured for her to continue, he had a vindictive smile on his face. The flickering light of his lantern cast eerie shadows across his face, making the smile seem all the more sinister.

Emboldened by the reception of her previous bit of news, Chiara became slightly careless with her words. "He mumbled something about being wrong."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted saying anything. She had meant to hold on to that information until she was sure that she had it right. Even her clever ears had barely caught half of that mumbled statement from the Goblin King, and it was so unusually out of character for the arrogant Fae, that she knew her master was sure to question her further about it. Unfortunately, she didn't have any other information to give. Mistakes like that could cost her a wing. But, what's said is said, and there was no going back now. While she was far from certain about what exactly she had heard the Goblin King say, she was not going to risk earning herself another punishment by confessing to anything else that remotely resembled a failure. She hoped that her small mistake would go unnoticed.

Her heart stuttered and her breath caught in her throat when her innocuous statement caused his eyebrows to rise quizzically. Much like the Goblin King's, she thought inanely, as her thoughts began to scatter in fear.

"Wrong about what, I wonder?"

She quickly collected herself. Not daring to add anything else, lest she dig herself even deeper into this unexpected hole, she simply shook her head and shrugged wordlessly. He dismissed her response with a wave of his hand and began to pace back and forth within the small circle of light cast by the lamp. He stepped over the larger rocks while kicking several smaller stones out of his way. They bounced off into the darkness, rolling and clattering through the puddles, until they came to a rest somewhere out in the darkness of the caves. After several minutes of this pacing, his temper got the better of him.

"Damn him!"

Chiara jumped at his outburst but kept silent.

"There must be someone in that blasted kingdom that knows what's going on!" He stood silently for a time and then turned to the Nyxie. "I want you to go out into the Labyrinth itself and see if you can find any new information. Try that stupid dwarf-ish Guardian he has stationed outside the southern entrance. If anything, that one would have seen the runner that defeated the Labyrinth when they entered."

"But what about watching King Jareth?" She ventured timidly.

"I'll find someone more useful." The dark man snapped in irritation. "You just do as you're told, and remember the price of failure as well as your manners, or I will be forced to relieve you of your service to me."

Chiara gulped and bowed before him, her bow brought her so close to the slimy floor that she was nearly touching it. The smell of the rotting slime was almost overpowering, but she endured it. Anything was better than facing her master's wrath. She remained there, breathing in the nasty stench until he made a sound of annoyance that caused her to snap upright and look at him.

"Well, go!" He thundered.

Her sensitive ears bleeding slightly at the almost overpowering sound of his furious outburst, she turned, snatched up her small lantern, and fled back up the passage she entered by. She did not slow down until she exited the caves under the mountain and had fled into the shelter of the surrounding forest. Once under the cover of a deadfall, she felt reasonably safe enough to take stock of her surroundings. The Nyxie was shaking like a leaf when she peeked out to ensure that she had not been followed. Briefly, she considered running far, far away, but it was no use. He had used her name and ancient dark magic to bind her very soul to his service, and no matter how far or how long she ran, he would only find her and bring her back. She was sure the punishment would be far worse than anything she had yet experienced if she ever dared to defy him in such a manner. She set about cleaning the blood from her ears, spitting and hissing like a cat in pain and irritation all the while. With this task complete, she flitted away from the deadfall and sped south, back toward the Labyrinth and the Goblin Kingdom, to carry out her master's orders.

* * *

Back in the darkness of the caverns, her captor snapped his fingers and conjured a smoky crystal. Standing several feet from the pool where he always met his little spy, he smashed in on the floor and the cavern was suddenly filled with the cheerful light of a roaring bonfire. He moved to sit by the flames. The floor, which moments before had been covered with nasty slime, was now bare rock. He settled himself and stared into the flames while he considered the information the little Nyxie had brought to him. He gloated over the knowledge of Jareth's pain and his admission of failure. Perhaps the great Goblin King could finally be brought down a peg or two! The dark haired Fae indulged in a few minutes of daydreaming about that notion, his dark and twisted mind conjuring up several scenarios in which he saw himself turning this knowledge to his advantage to finally bring down his rival.

Eventually though, he brought his mind back to the business at hand. Of the various rumors that his little spy had heard, the most credible one was that a young girl had beaten the Labyrinth. Even that was preposterous, really. Grown men, warriors, both mortal and Faery kind, had tried yet failed in that endeavor. He immediately dismissed the idea of a very small child running the Labyrinth, Jareth could be cruel, but he was no monster. The fae's perfectly sculpted lips twisted in contempt and he snarled. Jareth always had a weakness for children... and women... and, well, Jareth was simply weak in his opinion. He didn't deserve the throne. With considerable effort, the twisted fae calmed himself down and moved his train of thought back to the rumor of the small child running the Labyrinth. While the idea was ridiculous, it was quite curious that a name had been assigned to the child. The dark little faery had been very sure of the name. He mused, perhaps a little research along those lines could yield an answer. He made a mental note to inquire into the name and moved on.

What else had the little pest told him? Nightmares... Hm. Unusual, but nothing he could work with there. Perhaps if he knew what form they took... but it was unlikely someone as powerful as the Goblin King would leave his slumber unguarded. He highly doubted that Jareth would be susceptible to dream invasion or manipulation. The fae shifted slightly, annoyed at the discomfort of the hard ground. A flick of the wrist produced another crystal. He lobbed it at a nearby boulder which obligingly turned into a comfortable chair. Rising to his feet, the blue eyed Fae pulled the chair toward the fire and sprawled in it. He resumed his thoughts while he warmed his feet before the fire.

Some of the servants in the castle thought the King was in love, did they? He snorted. "I should be so lucky!" He told the fire. He knew enough about the Goblin King to know that he would fiercely protect anything he viewed as his property, and that would include whatever woman he eventually claimed. No women visited the castle, though. Was he in love with a servant girl? That thought brought a shout of laughter to the lips of this somberly dressed man. Wouldn't that be a scandal! Not that it was precisely forbidden, but it definitely was not looked on with great favor. He briefly considered this possibility but soon dismissed it with a small pang of regret. That little pest he sent to spy on the king could hardly have missed an event like that.

He mentally congratulated himself on securing such a useful little spy. She was even able to worm her way into the very bedchamber of the king! Too bad she never got him any useful information. He shifted in his chair, turning slightly so he could toss one leg over the arm. Rumors. Rumors generally had some basis in fact, even if it was only a sliver. His mind churned with all of the rumors as he meditated on what his little spy had told him. A runner had beaten the Labyrinth, an unheard of victory, but no one knew anything about this runner. He had heard of no transformation ceremony to turn a wished away human child into a denizen of the Underground. He supposed it could have been done quietly, but that would have been highly unusual. He had to conclude therefore, that the runner had indeed beaten the Labyrinth and reclaimed the child. Such a thing had not occurred in centuries, and yet the name of the runner was not celebrated. No runner had come forward to claim his or her accolades for the deed. Most unusual. Why go to the trouble of keeping the runner a secret? The dark man shot to his feet as a sudden burst of clarity came over him. Of course! Why did no one else see it?

He began to laugh and leap around the fire in an unrestrained display of glee. His laughter rose insanely to the ceiling and the man's blue eyes were suddenly tinged red as a dark power rose within them, unleashed by the triumph of the moment of realization.

Eventually the laughter died down to a demonic sounding chortle as he considered this new revelation in greater detail. Everyone assumed that Jareth had hushed the affair up to soothe his damaged pride. He was soothing his pride all right, but not because someone had finally beaten him at his own game. Jareth was in love with the runner! The man grinned wickedly. Since no Fae ladies had come forth to claim ownership for the deed, it must have been a mortal, an unusually strong and willful mortal, who beat the Labyrinth. Jareth was in love with a mortal! Since Jareth appeared to be so distraught and tried so hard to hush it up over the last six years, it seemed that the runner not only bested the Labyrinth, she must have also rejected the Goblin King!

"So Jareth, you finally lost your heart, to a mortal girl, and she rejected you. How deliciously idiotic of you, old boy! What I wouldn't give to have been there to watch as she threw your offer right back into your face."

The fire made no reply to his hissing comment but continued to burn cheerfully, holding the surrounding darkness at bay, as he looked at it. He began to plot. He would need more spies. The girl would have to be found.

"You thought to hide her away, Jareth?" His voice rose into the darkness of the ancient caverns. "I will find her, and when I do she will be mine! Everything will be mine. I will rise higher than you have ever dreamed of rising!" As he spoke his voice rose until he was shrieking into the blackness of the caves, yelling his defiance of the Goblin King, the High King, the council, of all that was orderly and good. "I will be the undisputed ruler of the Underground! I will come upon the puny mortals Above like a vengeful god and all shall worship at my feet!" This would be his moment, he would reshape the world to suit himself.

He stared silently into the fire as the echoes of his shouts slowly faded to silence. His jubilation was gone, replaced by cunning introspection. This would take planning. He needed confirmation of his suspicions. It wouldn't do to move too fast and reveal himself. He was a hunted man after all. So far, he had eluded all who sought him, but it would not do to trip just as the finish line came into sight. He brought his hand up to rub his chin.

The girl was the key. With her, he could become the prophesied ruler.

He sat back in his chair, tossing his leg over the arm once more as he stared into the fire. He remained for several hours, planning his next move. Finally, he smiled and rubbed his hands together before conjuring one final crystal. Rising from his seat, he tossed the crystal to the stone floor of the cavern. It was instantly plunged into darkness once more. The tiny wavering flame on the candle stub in his lantern cast a weak glow over the pool of water. He grinned in the returned darkness.

"The girl must be found."


	2. Trying to Keep It Together

**Disclaimer** : Insert witty sentence about how I don't own anything from The Labyrinth ect. ect.

Special thanks to my lovely beta ladyofshalott19 for her time and editing skills!

* * *

"Noooo!"

Sarah jerked awake with the echo of a despairing scream resounding in her mind. Recognizing  _his_  voice, she looked apprehensively around the sterile room, half expecting to see him. Ever since her triumphant return from the Underground, where she saved her baby brother from being turned into a goblin by the evil Goblin King, she had been plagued by the sense that something was missing. It was much the same feeling that she had felt in the Junkyard around the Goblin City. She felt like she was looking for something, or waiting for something to happen. The feeling seemed to be connected to the enigmatic king, but at the same time... not. Sarah found that she felt incomplete after her adventure in the Labyrinth, but she chalked it up to returning to her ordinary mortal life after such an experience. She was unable, or unwilling, to come to terms with the fact that she might somehow be more connected to the Goblin King than she wanted to be. Six years later, and now no stranger to self analysis, Sarah couldn't separate her feeling of being incomplete from her feelings about  _him_. She often dreamed she heard his voice, and she started every time she saw an owl, half hoping and half fearful that it was him.

The strange feeling of emptiness was not the only lasting effect that Sarah experienced from her trip to the Underground. For a short while, it had seemed as though her life would get better after her return. The morning following her rowdy celebration with her Underground friends, was the most pleasant time Sarah could ever remember having with her family. When Karen entered the kitchen that morning, she had found that Sarah had already put the clean dishes away and was about to set the table for breakfast. Even her step mother had noticed that Sarah was no longer the sulky and self centered teenager she had been the previous day. Sadly, the sense of peace that Sarah felt was not to last.

On that morning, Sarah had sat at the table with her family, eager to eat the wonderful smelling breakfast that Karen had made. Sarah had filled her plate and lifted a bite of french toast to her lips as she watched her little brother happily using his spoon to mash his eggs into smaller and smaller bits. At first, nothing was amiss, but then she had looked down at her plate, puzzled. The food on her plate had certainly appeared appetizing, but it had tasted like cardboard. Shrugging, Sarah pushed the french toast aside and served herself some scrambled eggs. But they too, had tasted like paper. The same thing happened with the sandwich she had tried to eat at lunch, and again, with the pizza that they ordered for dinner. Sarah had choked down as much of the pizza as she could stomach, barely half a slice, and then asked to be excused, even though she was starving.

For the next few days, Karen had been somewhat sympathetic, thinking that perhaps her step daughter was coming down with a stomach virus. As a few days had turned into a few weeks, and it had been clear that Sarah was not ill, Karen's sympathy turned to anger. In her stepmother's eyes, Sarah's advance into maturity had been nothing more than another cry for attention from her father. Karen had been determined that the girl's newest tactic, refusing to eat, would not succeed. Rather than viewing her step daughter as a young girl in need of help, she had assumed that Sarah was once again attempting to make herself the center of attention, and Karen had been livid.

For her part, Sarah had been frantic. Although she had done her best to hide her worry from her family, Sarah had been nearly as ill in those early days from anxiety as from lack of food. Nothing tasted right anymore, and she had remembered the peach that Hoggle had given her on the Goblin King's orders with a feeling of dread. Old stories spoke of what happened to humans who consumed fae food, and none of those outcomes were good. She had spoken to Hoggle about her problem, but he hadn't had any bright ideas. He had tried to bring her food a few times from the Underground, but most of it didn't survive the trip, going bad almost as soon as he brought it to her.

Nor had her sudden inability to enjoy Aboveground food been the only relic of her trip through the Labyrinth. In addition to being able to call on her friends whenever she wanted to talk to them, Sarah had found that she could see all manner of faery creatures in her world as clearly as she had been able to see them in the Underground. She would see a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye and would turn to discover some sort of creature, usually a goblin or fairy, causing mischief. Her family had began to wonder if something was wrong with her since she frequently whipped around to stare at something they couldn't see. Karen thought Sarah was going crazy, but her father had tried in vain to find a medical explanation for his daughter's new maladies. Sarah had seen doctor after doctor; all of them poked and prodded, drew blood, and performed test after test. Much to the annoyance of Karen and the dismay of Richard, nothing conclusive was ever found.

Turning on her side in the narrow hospital bed, Sarah remembered the day, nearly a year after her run through the Labyrinth, that everything finally fell apart on her. Her breathing steadied as she slipped into the memory. With any luck, the staff would fail to notice that she was awake at all.

_The day started like any other day since she returned from the Underground. Sarah usually got up as early as she could manage so that she could pretend to have already eaten to appease Karen. She knew Karen was suspicious and upset regarding her lack of interest in food. Sarah had received numerous lectures from her stepmother over the past months, detailing just how inconsiderate and selfish she was being by tormenting her father with her refusal to eat. Sarah tried to explain, but Karen refused to listen to any more of what she termed "nonsense." Therefore, Sarah did her best to eat when it was necessary but avoided the issue altogether as often as possible. This morning, however, she overslept and was forced to join her family for breakfast. While the rest of her family ate, Sarah disconsolately pushed her food around her plate, forcing herself to eat a few bites of the increasingly nauseating food._

_Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah caught a flicker of movement where there shouldn't be any. She whipped her head sharply to the left and saw a small, shadowy figure scurry around the corner and into the living room. She let out an involuntary gasp._

_Her father and Karen looked at her quizzically. As she tried yet again to explain what she had seen, another flicker of movement, this time to her right, had Sarah snapping around to look. A small goblin imp was grinning at her from on top of the kitchen cabinets. She watched it run along the length of the cabinets and disappear behind the refrigerator. By now, her father was worried, while Karen was annoyed. As they questioned her, Sarah felt small eyes on her and something hit the back of her neck. She reached up behind her and felt nothing. When it happened again, Sarah shot out of her seat, spun around, and yelled at the little imp behind the fridge. It stuck its tongue out at her and disappeared again. Toby began to cry because Sarah was yelling, and Karen scowled angrily while her father sat there and stared at her. Trying to recover her composure, Sarah quickly excused herself and went up to her room. Alone in her room, she laid on her bed and closed her eyes tightly, trying to regain her sense of normalcy. She fell asleep to the sound of fairy wings fluttering in her room._

The screaming of another patient interrupted Sarah's reverie. Groaning in annoyance, Sarah shifted around on the bed and put her pillow over her head to try and shut out the noise. Not everything she was now able to see was a cute little goblin or fairy. As she learned on that lazy Saturday five years ago, there were darker beings out there as well, including some who preyed on humans. Listening to the hysterical screaming and sobbing of the man down the hall, Sarah remembered her first encounter with something that frightened her, other than the Goblin King.

_Later on that same day, Sarah walked into the living room where Karen was napping on the couch and had her first of many frightening experiences. When she walked further into the room, she saw a shadow hovering over Karen. Sarah halted immediately, sucking in her breath for a scream. The thing turned blood red eyes on her and hissed. Then, it coalesced into a demonic looking creature sitting on Karen's chest, it's long claws making indentations in the sleeping woman's pale skin. The last thing Sarah could remember was screaming for her father before the world went black._

From her subsequent research, Sarah was convinced that the creature she had seen on that afternoon was a nightmare. That wasn't the last time she saw such things. Over the next five years, Sarah found herself in and out of treatment centers and hospitals, where she frequently encountered frightening creatures. The darker fae creatures frequently tormented mental patients, mostly because they could get away with it.

Tentatively, Sarah removed the pillow from her head. Thankfully, Danny had stopped screaming. Poor Danny, the man screaming down the hall, was tormented by one of the Lilim, or daughters of Lilith. Sarah had seen the succubi on a few occasions and completely believed Danny when he told her about his frightening encounters. As much as Sarah wanted to help him, she couldn't permanently banish the Lilim. She could, sometimes, force the faery creatures she saw to leave her presence for a short time by mentally demanding it, but it was an exhausting and never permanent solution.

When she had recovered from her fainting spell that day Sarah had tried, for the first time, to tell her family about what had happened nearly a year previously. No one had believed her, except perhaps Toby, but then, Toby had been so little at the time that he wasn't really able to help his sister. By then Karen, who had obviously seen Sarah talking with Hoggle in the mirror, thought she was insane and had told her husband that his daughter talked to herself. Karen complained about all of the erratic behaviors Sarah displayed. Richard Williams, unwilling to believe that his only daughter was crazy, told Sarah that it had just been a strange dream. He had told her that it was time for her to forget her foolishness and try to get along better with her stepmother. Unfortunately for Sarah, it was really hard to ignore the faery creatures that routinely popped up every time she so much as blinked. When she continued to insist that she saw these creatures, and not only saw them, but interacted with them, Karen finally put her foot down.

_"I'll not have her craziness in this house! Not near my son! Do you hear me Richard? I will not allow it. You need to take her somewhere... get her some medication. She's clearly gone off the deep end!"_

_"Now, Karen," Richard said, trying to reason with his wife while Sarah sat wide eyed on the couch, looking from one to the other as they argued in the middle of the living room._

_"No," Karen interrupted, her voice rising as she became more and more upset. "Look at her Richard! She doesn't eat. She's turned herself into an anorexic just so she can get attention. As if that wasn't enough, she claims she sees and hears things that aren't there. She's crazy! Normal people don't act like this, Richard and… and… I'm frightened."_

_Sarah could only look on in horror as Karen turned on the waterworks. With tears streaming down her face, Karen reached out to her father. He gathered his wife in his arms and sighed heavily while he comforted her. Tears came to Sarah's own eyes when she heard the defeat in his voice._

_"All right Karen, I'll find somewhere she can go until she gets better."_

The next day, her father had driven her to a private clinic for girls with eating disorders and left her there. Sarah had been heartbroken. She had felt that her father abandoned her in favor of his wife and son. Although her father had come to visit nearly every week, Sarah sat in silence, staring at the wall until he left. She had refused to see anyone else for months, and the clinic finally had to send her to the hospital. Eventually, Richard had remembered that Sarah adored her little brother. So he brought Toby with him on one of his visits, over the objections of his wife, who didn't want Toby to set foot in a psychiatric ward. It had been Toby's presence that finally convinced Sarah to begin trying to rebuild her life. Karen had never come to see her at all.

Following an intense round of seeing psychologists and counselors, she had ended up in the office of Doctor Lyle Preston, an eminent psychiatrist. After talking to her family as well as to Sarah, he had tentatively diagnosed her with a schizoaffective disorder and had recommended that she see him several times a week. Richard, who had really been very worried about his daughter, despite their lack of closeness, had agreed.

So, Sarah had sat in Dr. Preston's office several times a week, listening to him as he explained how she was ill. He had told her that the creatures she saw every now and then were simply delusions to be ignored, as was the fact that the food tasted strange to her. She also began to take powerful anti-psychotic drugs, which hadn't done anything other than turn her into an empty imitation of herself. The meds had made her more tractable and suggestive though. After a while, Sarah had found herself believing Dr. Preston when he told her that she was delusional. _Of course there were no such things as goblins, and no such person as the Goblin King,_  she would agree in her thoughts as he spoke. "It's all in my head." She would say, even as she spied a small goblin imp pulling the magazines off of the tables in Dr. Preston's office. Deep down though, Sarah knew better. She knew that she hadn't been dreaming and that she was really able to see what no one else could.

For three years, Sarah struggled with her health. She felt like her medication turned her into a zombie, so she would secretly stop taking it, only to be caught and forced back on it. She continued to battle the taste of food at every meal and grew to hate the idea of eating altogether. Eventually, she was freed from the medication for good. Several months before she turned nineteen she went off her meds again. To the surprise of her family and Dr. Preston, she slowly continued to improve this time, even without the meds. A counselor helped her mend her relationship with her father and, much to Karen's disgust, she was able to go back home when she turned nineteen.

For the next two years Sarah lived at home, and was careful to ignore any odd occurrences that she saw around her. She no longer called on her Underground friends or spoke to anything that wasn't there. She forced herself to eat at every meal. She still had no appetite and the food tasted awful, but at least her weight had stabilized. Sometimes she was even allowed to spend time with her brother, carefully supervised, of course. Karen didn't trust her. She was still pale and weak but she felt that she might be getting better. Things were once again looking up for Sarah Williams, until the unthinkable happened, landing her right back in the hospital again.

Several weeks ago, her father had been killed in a car accident, and the shock of it had sent Sarah into a severe decline. Already weakened, she found herself unable to eat, and Karen had quickly put her into the hospital after she found Sarah angrily yelling at nothing... again. Actually, Sarah had been yelling at a Nyxie who had bitten the elderly Merlin. Of course, Karen couldn't see the dark little faery and wouldn't have believed Sarah if she told her the truth.

As Sarah lay in the hospital bed, trying to forget both Danny's screaming and the fact that she was once again awakened by the voice of the Goblin King, she tried to gather her strength. Today was her father's funeral. By now, everyone who knew the family knew that Sarah was "a little strange." Today though, Sarah was determined to be as normal as possible. She didn't need to give Karen another reason to be upset. Sarah was under no illusions as to how Karen felt about her. She knew that, given the choice, Karen would have held the funeral without Sarah present at all.

* * *

"Good Morning, Sarah." The chipper young nurse came into the room and interrupted her musings. In her hands, she held Sarah's breakfast tray, which she set on the rolling table beside her bed. "How are we feeling today?"

"I'm fine, thank you Katie," Sarah replied. She remembered Katie from the last time she was a patient here. She had always been friendly with the cute blonde nurse. Sarah appreciated that Katie didn't treat her like she was completely insane, even though many others thought she was. Katie was always willing to talk to Sarah and had even listened to her ramblings about her trip through the Labyrinth without comment.

"Are you sure?" Katie asked, suspiciously. "We know that you have been up for some time, and it is pretty early." As much as she liked her, Sarah knew that Katie was still going to do her job. If Sarah was having another episode, Katie would have to tell Dr. Preston, even though Sarah knew Katie sympathized with her situation. Katie had once told her that she herself was considered "sensitive" and could sometimes communicate with other entities. Sarah knew that Katie didn't exactly think she was insane, but she was unwell in the eyes of the petite nurse.

"Just a little nightmare, that's all," said Sarah, striving to appear as normal and nonchalant as possible. "Danny also startled me a bit this morning." She definitely didn't want to have an extended session with Dr. Preston today. He was very nice and had helped her immensely over the years, but he also got on Sarah's nerves. Most days it was all she could do to sit through his little lectures without screaming. But today, it would just be too much.

"I'll tell Dr. Preston about it when he comes in for rounds in a few minutes," stated Katie, causing Sarah to sigh. So much for not having to talk to the doctor. She just hoped he didn't try to put her on medication again.

Technically, Sarah was old enough to make her own medical decisions and had begun to do so roughly two years ago, around the time she turned nineteen. She and Dr. Preston had come to an agreement. He wouldn't put her on any type of medication as long as she continued to make progress. If she showed signs of deterioration, then he would have no choice but to force her back on medication- by any means necessary. Sarah knew this would include having her declared incompetent. If that happened now, Karen would have control over Sarah's medical care, and that was the last thing in the world that Sarah wanted. Therefore, she continued to see Dr. Preston and agreed to all his demands because that's what was necessary for her to keep her autonomy. She knew she was already on thin ice with the doctor as a result of her latest episode and, of course, there was the little matter of the taste of the food and her resulting weakness. Only Dr. Preston's forbearance, and the fact that this relapse had been precipitated by the emotional trauma of her father's sudden passing, kept her nominally in control of her own fate so far. Sarah was determined to keep it that way.

"Time to eat," said Katie with a determined look that would have forestalled any arguments that Sarah could think to make. Sarah decided not to fight her on this day. She was going to need her strength later on.

While Sarah dutifully choked down as much of her breakfast as she could under Katie's watchful eye, she kept her ear out for Karen's arrival. She heard her long before she saw her, the sound of heels signaling Karen's arrival. Karen's stilettos seemed to slam on the linoleum in irritation as she walked down the hallway. Sarah looked up just in time to see an unhappy Karen bump into Dr. Preston in the hall. She was able to catch snatches of the conversation taking place right outside her room..

"...don't like it," said Karen.

"It's her right to..." stated Dr. Preston "...force her to..."

Then, Karen raised her voice a bit, allowing Sarah to figure out some of what her stepmother was so upset about this morning. "I don't want her making a scene!"

Obviously realizing that Sarah was not going to eat anymore, Katie gave her a look of sympathy. She placed a few bites of Sarah's bagel on a napkin and left in on the table before she picked up the tray. "I'll take this out of your way and I'll tell Dr. Preston that you are ready to see him this morning. Make sure you finish the last of that bagel," she commanded, and hurried out the door before she had to deal with Karen.

Katie definitely disapproved of her stepmother, Sarah remembered with a small smile as she brought the bagel to her mouth. Sighing, she took as large a bite as she could and chewed quickly, anxious to get it over with.

The doctor said something else that Sarah couldn't hear as Karen turned away with a scowl. She headed for Sarah's door and entered without knocking. "Aren't you finished eating yet? We have to leave in half and hour," she stated with irritation.

As usual, Karen was immaculately groomed. Despite being dressed in mourning, her hair was perfectly coiffed, her shoes shone in the insipid hospital lighting, and her nails were perfectly manicured. She carried her long, dark coat over her arm. Sarah did notice that there were dark circles under her eyes that no amount of makeup was able to hide. Looking closer, Sarah realized that her stepmother's eyes were bloodshot, as though she gone too long without sleep.

"I'm just finishing Karen," Sarah mumbled as she shoved the last piece in her mouth. It tasted like dirt, but Sarah swallowed anyway. Quickly, she reached for her cup and washed the taste away with a swig of water. At least water didn't taste bad.

Dr. Preston knocked on her door and entered after pausing politely. He inquired into her state of mind and nodded approvingly as he checked her chart. "Did you eat today?" he asked. Sarah nodded and he looked a bit happier. "Katie told me that you had a nightmare. Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Not really." Karen snorted at this, but Sarah ignored her. "There's really nothing to tell you."

She wasn't about to tell her doctor that she had heard  _his_  voice again. The Goblin King. Sarah shuddered inwardly at the thought of him. She tried never to think of him, or her time Underground, if she could help it. Dwelling on those events just made dealing with her life all that much worse, and she didn't think she could handle things being worse than they already were today.

Dr. Preston shot a disbelieving look at his patient but allowed the subject to drop. He was aware of her fragile state and was of two minds as to whether or not she should be allowed to attend this funeral. On the one hand, she seemed to be better mentally. But on the other, she was so weak from malnutrition that he almost wanted to keep her in the hospital and insist on a feeding tube. He was optimistic however. Before she lost her father, Sarah had been doing fairly well, and seemed to have been recovering. He was willing to wait and monitor her progress without taking any drastic measures. Giving her a nod, he offered her his condolences and informed Sarah and Karen that he was releasing her for the day.

"I expect that she will return by late evening," he told Karen, signing several papers that would allow Sarah to leave with her stepmother.

"She will be returning directly after the burial," Karen informed him. "I didn't think she would be up to anything more." She couldn't have sounded any more insincere if she tried.

Dr. Preston completely missed this lack of sincerity. He simply nodded before offering Karen his condolences and leaving the room.

The silence that descended on the room in his wake grew, until Sarah thought it would start to manifest itself as a physical being. It had been many years since Sarah and Karen had been alone together for any reason, and their relationship had not improved any in the intervening years. Karen still thought Sarah was a spoiled brat who wanted to get rid of her. As for Sarah, she had long ago cast aside any bitterness toward Karen about taking her mother's place or monopolizing her father's time. No, she had grown to hate Karen for her manipulative ways and her interference in issues that had nothing to do with her. Sarah was disgusted by her stepmother's selfish attitude, while Karen resented her stepdaughter for ruining her perfect little family with her condition. If things had been different, the two of them might have overcome their differences and become friends, but it wasn't ever going to be like that.

Sarah sat silently on the edge of the bed, determined not to be the one to break the silence. There wasn't anything she really felt like saying to this woman. Karen watched her narrowly, her lips pursed into an unattractive frown as she regarded her husband's daughter.

Sarah expected Karen to start harping on her refusal to take any medication, which was always a sore subject between the two of them, but she didn't. Instead, she launched into a tirade on another subject that Sarah knew was coming. She had just hoped that Karen would wait until after the funeral to bring it up.

"Dr. Preston called last night."

"He did?" They could have been two strangers talking about the weather for all of the emotion that they put into the stilted conversation.

"He said that you told him you were planning on checking yourself out against medical advice at the end of the week. I told him that there must have been some misunderstanding. You don't really have anyplace to go, do you dear?"

There it was again, that condescending tone. Sarah was so tired of hearing that tone of voice when people spoke to her. It was the same one the  _he_  had used on her when she entered his Labyrinth. Well, she had stood up to  _him_ , and she was going to stand up to Karen as well.

"I am. I thought I would spend a few nights in my old room and then rent an apartment. Daddy left me enough money to get by until I can find a job," Sarah stated, looking her stepmother square in the eye. She knew Karen would be very annoyed welcoming Sarah back into the house, but she had hoped that she wouldn't prevent it out of respect for her father's memory.

"Sarah, I will not let you do this!" Karen was getting worked up, her voice already rising. "You are in need of serious medical care; you are not well!" Karen always fell back on this line whenever Sarah was being difficult. In the past, she had her husband to back her up, but that was no longer the case.

"I'll be fine Karen. I'm a grown woman after all." Sarah carefully slid off the bed and stood next to it. She straightened her back and faced Karen squarely. "I'll get out of your life as soon as I can," she ground out.

Karen's mouth thinned into an unattractive line. "Actually, Sarah, your father and I had been talking about sending you to live in a rest home until you got better. I've reserved a spot for you already, and they are coming to pick you up tomorrow."

Sarah's jaw nearly hit the floor at that statement. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Karen was going to send her packing to a looney bin! Sure, she was calling it a "rest home", but it was going to be another psychiatric facility. Sarah felt her fury mount when she realized that Karen was lying to her. Just last month, she had spoken to her father about her fears that he was going to send her to some sort of facility, and he had told her not to worry.

Her fathers reassurance echoed in her memory as she stood facing Karen's condescending smile.

_"Don't worry pumpkin, as long as I'm around you are going to be staying right here with the family where you belong..."_

But he was no longer around, and Karen obviously hadn't wasted any time picking out a "rest home".

Sarah snapped her mouth closed and glared at Karen, with a bit of her old spirit. "I'm not going," she stated flatly. "Dr. Preston isn't happy about my decision to sign myself out of the hospital, but I know he isn't worried enough to sign the papers to have me committed against my will."

"We'll see about that," Karen sniffed. "Now, get dressed, or we are going to be late."

Realizing that Karen was going to hold off on the serious fighting until later, Sarah sighed in relief and moved into the bathroom. She closed the door and leaned her back against it. She was going to have one hell of a fight on her hands tomorrow when it came to retaining her freedom, but she would worry about that later. Right now, she needed to focus on getting through her father's funeral. Sighing, she pushed away from the door and walked toward the opposite wall. Her black dress hung there, waiting for her. 

* * *

As Sarah left the hospital with Karen, she mentally prepared herself to take on the stares and whispers of those who would be attending her father's funeral. Richard Williams had been a prominent and well liked businessman, so the funeral was likely to be well attended. Everyone knew that Richard Williams' daughter was "strange," a conception that Sarah felt her stepmother resented. While Sarah was glad that so many people were going to be there to honor her father's memory, she wasn't looking forward to appearing in such a public venue. Thankfully, she saw no disturbing creatures on her way to the funeral home. Sarah was glad to be able to concentrate on staying calm and serene. Causing a scene at the funeral was likely to land her in the psychiatric facility that Karen had chosen for her. Sarah valued her freedom and was determined to keep it, no matter what Karen wanted.

When they arrived at the funeral home, Sarah immediately left her stepmother at the doors and looked for Toby. She found him sitting in a small room, off to the side of the viewing room, while Karen's parents conversed in hushed tones on the other side of the room. "Hi kiddo," she said quietly, her heart breaking for her little brother when she saw the forlorn expression on his face.

"Sarah!" he exclaimed in a thick voice, his eyes filling up with tears. He darted out of his seat to throw himself at Sarah and wrapped his arms around her thin waist. "I'm so glad you're here. I miss Dad." he said into her stomach. His small body shook with suppressed sobs.

"Aw buddy, I know, I miss him too." she said, fighting to get the words past the lump that had formed in her own throat. The sight of her little brother's anguish brought all of Sarah's own heartbreak to the surface. Gently, she led him back over to the bench that he had been sitting on and sat down, pulling him into her embrace. "He would want us to be strong for your mom though." Sarah had always been careful to keep her feelings for Karen hidden from Toby. No child needed that kind of upheaval in their lives. Sarah knew that her father had appreciated her efforts to shield Toby from her tumultuous relationship with his mother. The thought brought tears to Sarah's eyes and she hugged her brother tightly. Tears dripped down her face as she sought to offer comfort to the sturdy little boy.

After several minutes, Toby's crying gradually ceased. He sniffled a little, his face buried in her thin shoulder. After allowing herself to cry for a few minutes longer, Sarah looked up to check the time. She didn't want to hold up the service because she and Toby were late.

What she actually saw pulled her up short. The room was literally crawling with strange creatures! Most of them were goblins and kobolds but she saw some fairies, a few nyxies, one corrigan and a dryad. There, in the shadows behind the door, was something she couldn't name.  _What's going on!_  Her mind was whirling and her mouth was dry as she looked around with wide eyes.  _Oh not today, please not today, of all days_ , she begged silently.

If they heard her thoughts though, the small fae creatures gave no sign. After a while, she noticed that they were all looking at her and Toby with sad faces, almost as if they shared in the siblings' sorrow. Sarah closed her eyes, gathered her will, and demanded that the little creatures go away. To her relief, they were gone when she opened her eyes.

Now that they were alone once more, Sarah pushed Toby up into sitting position and handed him a tissue. "Here Buddy, wipe your face, it's time for us to go and find your mom." Toby wiped his face and blew his nose when she instructed him to. Sarah carefully wiped her own tears away and stood. She adjusted Toby's jacket and tie then offered her hand to her brother, which he took as they left the room.

* * *

Sarah and Toby entered the main room together and sat in the front row to wait for the service to begin. Neither one said anything more; there was no need. They both felt a shared sorrow that went very deep and would be long in healing. Sarah tried to concentrate on keeping her face a stoic mask and thinking about happy memories of her father. She did not want to break down and start sobbing in front of everyone.

"Good, you're both here." Karen said as she sat down. Despite her dislike for this woman, Sarah couldn't help but notice that Karen seemed to be as emotionally brittle as glass. She knew that the loss of her father must have been a serious blow to Karen. Whatever personal problems she had with the woman, Sarah had always known that her father and Karen loved each other deeply. Sometimes, Sarah wished that she could reorder time and go back to the start of their relationship. Most of the time though, Sarah just wished to get away from her stepmother as quickly as she possibly could.

Despite the number of people who were attending, the service was to be simple and short. A fact for which Sarah was grateful. She was having a hard enough time keeping herself together without having to endure long winded eulogies about what a great man her father was.  _Not that Dad wasn't great_ , she thought,  _but there are only so many ways you can say it and... what the_ hell  _is that?!_

The denizens of the Underground were back, and there were now beings in this room that Sarah had never seen before. Her eyes darted around in a panic.  _Why are you here? Please leave me alone,_  she thought silently. Never before had she seen so many Underground creatures gathered together outside of the Goblin City. Sarah was starting to feel shaky and unstable again, and the last thing she needed was to add an ever changing audience of faeries to the fully mortal crowd that was already here. She closed her eyes and willed the faery creatures to go away again, as she had done many times over the past six years. This time, however, it was as if her acknowledgement sent them into a frenzy, and more and more started to pop in and out of the room to stare at her as the funeral service began.

Sarah's hands were quivering a bit as she clutched a tissue, and it was getting hard to remain calm and focused on the speakers giving eulogies. Sarah did her best to keep her eyes on whatever speaker was currently standing at the front of the blue draped room. She hoped that anyone who noticed her shaking hands simply thought that she was overcome with sadness. Suddenly, one of the goblins crawled up next to her and patted her leg, sending what felt like a small electrical shock through her. Barely restraining a scream, Sarah jumped up in the middle of the eulogy given by her father's longtime friend and business partner. Karen glared daggers at her for the interruption as everyone else stared.

Recovering some of her composure, Sarah looked away from Karen and Toby. "Excuse me, please," she murmured to the couple seated at the end of the aisle. "I must use the restroom." As Sarah slunk down the aisle, she heard the whispers begin as her father's partner continued speaking.

"Did you see?" One woman tittered to another.

"Poor thing, she's unstable." one man said to his wife as she passed.

"His daughter." said another. "So pretty, but just not quite right."

Finally, Sarah made it to the bathroom. "Go away! Scat! All of you, leave me alone!" Sarah was caught between begging and commanding the small creatures to leave. Thankfully, there was no one in the stalls except a few kobolds, a brownie and… a dwarf? Before she could make a sound, the dwarf bowed to her and disappeared. Sarah drew a shaky breath as the other faery creatures also bowed and disappeared. Deciding that she didn't want to know what kind of games the little blighters were playing now, she ignored their bows and returned to ensuring that she was alone. When she was sure that she had the bathroom to herself, Sarah splashed water on her face and dabbed at it with a paper towel. She looked in the mirror, taking in her dark hair, still long despite her condition, and her dull green eyes.  _So thin_ , she thought,  _and so pale... and those bags under my eyes!_ She stood up.  _In these black clothes, I look like a wraith._

Immediately after the thought crossed her mind, she froze and closed her eyes.  _Oh please, oh please, oh please no!_  she implored silently. Sometimes, if she thought about a certain creature, even accidentally, it would appear as if summoned. She wasn't sure if wraiths existed, but she didn't want to find out today.

_At least_ he  _never appears when I think of him_ , thought Sarah, letting out a sigh of relief when she found herself still alone. Although her thoughts seemed to have no effect, she was very careful never to speak his name out loud. The most she could manage was to whisper his title, and then, only when Dr. Preston insisted as part of her therapy. Sarah wasn't sure if the Goblin King could be summoned by speaking his name, but she didn't want to find out - ever. The last time she had come into contact with the infuriating Fae king, her life had quickly fallen apart. Now, six years later, she was just starting to get things back on track. The last thing she needed was to accidentally summon him, effectively giving him the chance to wreck what little remained of her sanity.

Briefly, Sarah entertained the notion of calling out to her friends and telling them that she needed them, but it had been years since she had called them. She didn't even know if they would respond to her call anymore. Besides, she had only ever called on them from her mirror at home. She didn't know if they were even able to respond here. Deciding that it wasn't worth the risk, Sarah turned away from the mirror. With a sigh, she exited the bathroom and returned to her father's funeral service.

Upon leaving the bathroom, Sarah found that the faery population was as thick as ever. All of them looked solemnly at her, but thankfully, none tried to touch her again during the service. Sarah assumed that the shock was just a prank played by the goblin. Apparently, the creature had discovered the fun of shuffling across a carpeted surface and then touching the nearest mortal. Sarah managed to keep her emotions under control throughout the service, crying quietly and decorously as she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. Finally, it was over, and Sarah hoped to be able to find a private room to grieve while she waited for Karen. She preferred not to mingle with the crowd while waiting until it was time to leave for the cemetery.

* * *

As she and Karen moved toward the doors at the rear of the room with Toby, Karen said, "Toby, I want you to stay here and wait with your Gram and Grampa. Sarah, I need you in the receiving line."

Sarah looked at her stepmother blankly.  _Surely she must be joking? Did Karen really think this was a good idea?_

"Come on, Sarah. People are going to ask where you are." Karen gestured impatiently to the doors leading to the front of the funeral home. Her next statement gave Sarah an answer to the unspoken question of why Karen would desire her presence in the receiving line. "I don't need anyone thinking that you've gone crazy." There was a flinty look in Karen's eye that said there would be trouble later if Sarah gave her a hard time now. Generally, Sarah wouldn't have cared about such threats, but Toby was present, and they were in public. With a sigh, Sarah followed Karen to the entrance where people were already lining up to offer their condolences to the family. She wisely chose not to reply to Karen's sarcastic comment or make any remarks about her stepmother's obsessive need to always behave as if everything was perfect, even at a funeral.

"I'm so sorry."

"The service was beautiful."

"...if you need anything..."

The platitudes came thick and fast, and Sarah began to think it would never be over. She kept her thoughts to herself and smiled politely at all of those who spoke to her. Suddenly, the various faeries that had been popping in and out during the entire service began getting into the line and filing past her, unbeknownst to the mortals also in the queue. Each and every one of them touched her as they passed by, and each touch was like an electric shock that made her twitch. People began to look at her strangely.

Sarah was glaring down at a sprite who had just zapped her with another burst of power, when an elderly neighbor that Sarah immediately recognized stepped in front of her. "Is everything alright, dear?" the sweet old lady asked.

Quickly, Sarah focused her attention on the grandmotherly woman and attempted to smile. "Of course." she murmured, trying not to twitch as another fairy touched her, producing another shock. Sarah was quickly starting to feel like she was going to fly apart, but endeavored to keep up a facade of calm sorrow for the benefit of those around her.

"Well, all right, dear. If you or Karen need anything, you just let me know." The lady patted her arm, sending a massive shock through Sarah, and stepped over to talk quietly with Karen. Sarah reeled and almost passed out. That surge of energy had been far stronger than anything the smaller creatures had been able to produce. Sarah didn't understand what was going on, but she was beginning to become very frightened. She could feel the blackness creeping up on her as she reached out to shake hands with the last gentleman in line. Thankfully, he moved along quickly, more interested in speaking to Karen that he was in speaking to her. Turning away, Sarah looked around for a chair to collapse into.

Finding one just in time, Sarah sank down gratefully on its plush blue cushion. She closed her eyes and leaned forward with her head down for a moment. When the feeling of imminent unconsciousness passed, Sarah opened her eyes and began looking for the old woman who had clearly done something to her, but she was nowhere to be seen. It didn't make sense. She had known Miss Edwards since she was a child. Sarah had memories of spending lazy summer afternoons playing Scrabble with the elderly woman who always scoffed when Sarah called her "Miss Edwards."

" _Don't be silly, dear, we're friends," she would say. "And friends use each other's names. You may call me Diona."_

Sarah had not seen her since just before her father's accident but Diona had visited her several times in the various treatment facilities and hospital wards that Sarah had been in over the years. Sarah had always thought she was just a kind, old woman. Clearly, there was something else going on, but she had no idea how her favorite neighbor had gotten mixed up in whatever it was that the faery folk were playing at.

"Come on, Sarah!" Karen was back. "It's time to head for the cemetery."

Sarah stood and immediately regretted it. Her head was spinning as though she was drunk, even though she hadn't had a drop of alcohol, and she was seeing strange sparkles. "I'm coming." she replied faintly, even as another brownie ran forward and jolted Sarah with her touch. As Sarah exited the funeral home and made her way to the black Cadillac waiting to transport the family to the cemetery, the faery creatures thronged around her. Negotiating the steps was difficult and she nearly fell twice, tripping over a creature that got underfoot. She was now enduring several jolts of energy at once as the faery folk pressed around her, jostling each other as they competed to touch her. Sarah once again began to feel the imminent threat of unconsciousness closing in around her as her vision filled with more sparkling lights. She was glad when she was finally able to slide into the vehicle and shut the door firmly in the face of the crowd, both human and nonhuman alike.

The car ride behind the hearse was blessedly silent. Gradually, the sparkles faded from her vision, although she continued to feel jittery, as though she had drunk far too much coffee. At least, while she was sitting, she was no longer feeling as though the word was spinning. Sarah hoped that whatever mischief the faery folk were up to, it would all be over now that she had escaped from the throng.

For the moment, Sarah sat in the back of the car with Toby and held his hand. He was such a little trooper. Only seven years old and he was handling this better than she was. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. Never, ever had she regretted saving him from the Goblin King. No matter what the consequences had been for her, it was infinitely worth it to be able to sit here and hold Toby's hand. To have had so many tickle fights. And snuggly stories on the couch. No dreams offered by  _him_  could possibly be as good as those memories were.

* * *

Sarah's hope that her strange ordeal had come to an end lasted only as long as the car ride. When they arrived at the cemetery and she stepped out of the car, she was immediately assaulted by the sight of hundreds of fae creatures lurking in the cemetery, waiting for her. She nearly dove back into the car but was prevented from doing so by Toby, who was wiggling out the door behind her. Toby ran past her to his grandparents while Sarah looked around rather wildly. The inebriated and jittery feeling had returned as she exited the vehicle and stood, and her hands were starting to shake again.

_Why are they here?_  Sarah thought, as she blindly followed Karen to the canopied area covering the grave where her father would be interred. Sarah had vague memories of being here when she was very small. Her father had stood beside her that time as they each placed a rose on her mother's coffin, watching as it was lowered into the ground. Sarah was grateful that Karen had adhered to her father's wishes about being interred next to his first wife. Privately, Sarah thought that the only reason she did so was because Karen herself planned on being cremated. Regardless, Sarah smiled as she thought about her parents finally getting to be together again, even if it was in death.

As she approached the grave site, the Underground creatures grew more numerous. Sarah momentarily considered demanding that they leave again. However, considering their reaction last time she attempted it, she doubted it would do any good. Sarah decided that her best course of action was to ignore them. She knew from experience that paying any attention to them would only encourage them to continue making trouble.

At the grave site, the denizens of the Underground began their procession again, each and every one of them touching her lightly. Each and every one of them shocking her with their touch. They all filed past her, so fast that she found it hard to identify all of them. A brownie, a wild looking elf, several savage dwarves, goblins and fairies by the score, dryads, naiads, even a few nightmares- there seemed to be no end to them. Sarah barely heard the old cleric as he prayed over her father's grave. Tears fell unbidden down her face as she was shocked again and again, and she began to mutter at them. "Go away, go away, go away, go away."

Karen nudged her. "Stop it Sarah, there's nothing there. It's all in your imagination." Karen spoke in a whisper, but her voice was strained and thick with unshed tears. Sarah clenched her teeth and tried to remain silent as a short, dripping wet girl, with water weeds in her hair and on her clothes approached her in the faery procession. It was a rusalka, and she too stung Sarah with a burst of energy at her touch. Then, the rusalka did a strange thing. She curtseyed to Sarah with a look of sadness and respect touching her damp face. Sarah watched the nymph in confusion, barely feeling the shocks of the others that passed. The rusalka disappeared, and Sarah wracked her brain, trying to remember anything from her research that would explain what was happening to her. She was drawing a blank.

Just as her father's coffin was being lowered into the earth, Sarah finally began to buckle under the strain of coping with her father's death, the pressure of the funeral, and the strange behavior of the fae creatures. She became certain that somehow, all of these creatures were here to take her back. They were going to drag her back to  _him_. The thought was too much for Sarah's overloaded system to handle. Her breathing became labored as she looked around wildly. He had to be here. He was making these creatures do this to torture her. Sarah felt like she was going to fly out of control one minute, and then pass out the next. The strange sparkles across her vision intensified and all sounds grew unnaturally loud to her suddenly overly sensitive ears.

As the burial came to a close, Karen took one more look at her stepdaughter and quietly asked her parents to take Toby back to the car. They looked at her sympathetically and nodded. "Go with Gram and Grampa Toby; I have to talk to Sarah," Karen said with a small smile for her son.

A look of confusion crossed Toby's tear stained face, but he obeyed when he noticed the look in Karen's eye. He walked toward the car with his grandparents in tow, shooting Sarah a last sympathetic glance over his shoulder as he went. He hoped that his sister wasn't about to get into trouble. He knew that expression on his mother's face, and it wasn't good.

Sarah barely noticed when Toby left. Her hands were shaking and the spots were dancing in front of her eyes so badly that she almost thought the world around her was dancing. She was trembling all over and looking up into the trees to see if she could spot a white owl.

When Toby was a safe distance away, Karen turned to her step daughter. "Stop it Sarah." she said harshly.

"But he has to be here!" Sarah exclaimed wildly. "Don't you see! They're everywhere! These creatures... everywhere!" By now, Sarah didn't even know what she was saying. Her mind reeled as it tried to function under the strain of the day, and her body was close to collapse thanks to the seemingly endless barrage of energetic jolts from the various Underground creatures. Only adrenaline was keeping Sarah on her feet.

"There's nothing! Nothing here at all!" Karen yelled in anger and exasperation, grabbing Sarah's shoulders and shaking her, snapping her head back and forth. The few people who had been in attendance at the burial were staring openly, and that only infuriated Karen more. Out of the corner of her eye, Karen saw the cleric backing away from the scene, holding his bible out in front of himself, as if to shield himself from the strife between the two women. Karen released her step daughter and clenched her hands in anger, her nails cutting bloody half moons in her palms.

Briefly, Sarah focused on her stepmother and then quickly dismissed her. "Where is he? He can't get away with this, I'll kill him!" Her legs wobbled unsteadily for a moment as she continued her frantic search of the trees in the surrounding area.

Sarah tried to step around Karen and head out into the cemetery, but Karen had had enough. It was just too much. First, the girl went mad and Richard refused to force her to remain in a psychiatric facility where she belonged. Then, he died and left her with a twenty-one year old who was essentially afraid of monsters, who talked wildly about goblins and screamed at nothing. She just couldn't take it any more. Karen grabbed Sarah by the back of her jacket and hauled her back under the canopy.

"So many of them," Sarah murmured, barely noticing that Karen was yanking her around like a rag doll. "I didn't know he had so many goblins. So many children he took away..."

Karen boldly stepped closer to Sarah and spun her around sharply. Glaring at her, Karen felt all the anger and jealousy that she had harbored over the years rising up inside her. Her resentment with being left to deal with this mess on her own had her incapable of making rational decisions. As she watched her deceased husband's daughter have what looked like a psychotic break by his grave, her temper could no longer be controlled. It all came to a head in this moment, and Karen, beyond caring about anything other than finally gaining the upper hand over Sarah, hissed out a heart stopping sentence.

"I wish the goblins would take you away, right now!"

Karen took a satisfying moment to watch the look of incredulous horror sweep across the features of her step daughter. Then, she raised her hand and backhanded Sarah as hard as she could, right across the face.


	3. The High Council

**Disclaimer -** Still don't own anything from the movie

A/N - This chapter was a beast. It was really hard to write and then go through the editing process for this one. Many thanks to ladyofshalott19 for her editing skills. A shout out goes to my wonderful husband, who also took a hand in editing this chapter. He pushes me to improve my writing, even when it pisses me off. A massive thanks to my sister who helps me laugh it off and try again when my editors tear my chapters to shreds! Without her, you wouldn't be reading this chapter.

There is a map that goes with this story. You can find it on DeviantArt: literaryrhapsody . deviantart

It is literally the only thing I have on DeviantArt. Be nice. I am NOT that kind of artist. I can't draw. The map is super rough, but it will give you a good idea of where everything in the Underground is.

Enjoy!

* * *

The High Council met in the city of Fialis, home to High King Cieran and his lovely wife, Queen Rhiannon. Although the High King and Queen ruled over nothing more than a small city-state, they were the ultimate authority in the Underground. Of the eleven members of the council, only nine were currently in attendance to discuss the state of the realms. Bright sunlight streamed through the open windows, and the sound of the surf could be heard as the waves crashed on the cliffs below the city.

Andris Lavasmith stood at the wall of windows, enjoying the sunshine and the novelty of the surf. As the king of the dwarven realm, he and his subjects spent most of their time underground in their mountainous kingdom to the northwest. Andris enjoyed his visits to Fialis, which was situated on a rocky peninsula that jutted out into the eastern sea. The council chamber was especially pleasing to him because the sills on the windows were very low, only a foot from the floor, an ideal height for a dwarf of his stature. The room had a light, airy feel that was completely different from the solid, imposing feel of his own council chamber. All in all, he always found his visits for council sessions here to be a very nice change of pace.

Turning away from the windows, Andris brought his thoughts back to the business at hand as the other members of the council began to arrive. He nodded at them and took his seat at the marble topped table, brooding on the latest news he had received from his border scouts. The number of raids within his realm had increased over the past year. It seemed as though the orcs and their various allies grew bolder with the passing of every season.

Andris turned his attention to the head of the table as Cieran and Rhiannon entered the room. He rose, along with the rest of the council, as the High King and Queen took their place at the head of the table.

Cieran waved his hand, indicating that the other rulers could be seated. He held a chair for his wife before taking his own seat. Andris watched the High King assess the mood around the table, noting the two empty seats and serious faces of his fellow council members. Andris himself observed several worried frowns and a few thoughtful expressions around the table before Cieran cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Thank you all for coming. As I'm sure that you are all aware, the border raids by the Orcs and their allies have been increasing in both number and severity over the past few years." There were nods and murmurs of agreement from the other rulers. "We have received word from the outlying settlements in the Dwarven and Human Kingdoms that people are beginning to flee the borderlands and gather in the cities for protection. Helimar has also reported several waves of refugees coming in out of the forest in the northern reaches of the Dark Elven Realm." Cieran gestured to the dark skinned elven king at the other end of the table. "If this trend continues, we will have an even larger crisis on our hands. We can't possibly accommodate that many refugees in the cities."

"When did the attacks begin in the Dark Elven holdings?" Mirima was dressed in a simple white gown. The pale green lace that covered the bodice of the gown was stitched in a subtle leaf pattern that continued over her arms and ended in points over the backs of her hands. The titian haired elf who ruled Kingdom of the Wood Elves leaned around her husband to look at her dark elven counterpart.

Twylithia, flicked her voluminous raven hair back over her shoulder and steepled her long, slender hands in front of her mouth before answering. "At the start of this year. At first, it was only a few of the most northerly homesteaders that were reporting nighttime raids into our kingdom. Now, the raids have spread even further south. The raiding parties seem to have found a passage through the eastern mountains, using it to push further and further into the countryside."

The assembled rulers murmured amongst themselves for a few moments before Cieran called them back to order. "Andris, how do things stand in your kingdom?"

"I've just received several dispatches from Bhandarth this morning." Andris shook his shaggy head, causing his long, full beard to wag back and forth. "The news isn't good. Refugees have been coming into the city steadily for the past several months, but there has been an increasing number of them in the last few weeks. My advisory council has interviewed a number of the refugees and learned that, although the largest number of raiders are Orcs, several other creatures have been spotted taking part in the raids." Andris looked over at Conor and Gwenna Lagadec, the ruling couple of the human kingdom of Avalon. "Including humans."

Conor sputtered, "Surely you can't think-"

The dwarf interrupted him. "I doubt that you, personally, have anything to do with it," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. "I do find it disturbing that we are starting to see the other races mixed up in raids on their neighbors though."

The room erupted in a chorus of denials as each ruler refuted the idea that their subjects would willingly take up arms against a neighboring realm. Andris remained silent, a frown on his face as he watched the foolishness erupting around him. He hadn't meant to insinuate that the attacks on his people were being orchestrated by the Crown of Avalon.

"Humans are not restricted to Avalon," Cieran reminded the dwarf, over the denials that were still pouring in from around the table.

"By the Hammer!" Andris burst out, infuriated that no one else saw the same possibility he did. The rest of the council grew silent. "I know that Cieran!" Andris looked around the table, his frown of disgust deepening as he observed his fellow rulers. Just moments ago they had been squabbling like children over a sweet. "This petty infighting serves no purpose other than to distract us from what should be our main goal!"

"Easy my friend." the High King said soothingly. "It's possible that you are correct, or it could be nothing more than a coincidence. Orcs are not exactly known for their strategy. For all their cunning, they tend to act impulsively, making up their battle plan as they go."

"I know," grumbled the dwarf. Andris looked his longtime friend squarely in the eye, willing him to take the hint. "It sounds like paranoia but I just can't shake the feeling that there is something bigger going on here than a mere the uptick in the usual raids."

The rest of the council sat silently for a moment as they mulled over his words. Andris was glad to see a thoughtful look on the face of the High King.

"You can't possibly be thinking about that absurd prophecy!"

Everyone turned to the Fae who ruled over the Fairy Kingdom. Her chestnut brown hair was elaborately styled and sprinkled with flowers. Her low cut gown revealed slightly more cleavage than was decorous, and Shaylee's usual bored expression had been replaced with a skeptical frown.

"The Orcs have been raiding the realms for centuries, it's what they do," Shaylee said emphatically. "But to suggest that the ravings of a delusional centaur witch doctor are behind these latest incursions is going a bit too far in my opinion." She sat back in her chair and resumed her languid posture.

"And in my opinion, it's better to be safe than sorry," retorted the Dwarf King. He hitched himself up in his chair and looked pointedly around the table. "You might all be willing to ignore this possibility, but I don't have that luxury. My kingdom is on the front lines, and always has been. Personally, I will put stock in anything that promises to put an end to the slaughter of my people!" Clenching his fists, Andris thought about the continuous suffering of his people as they were raided, year after year, by their enemies to the north.

"If I may," Twylithia said, raising a calming hand. "I will instruct my loremasters to look into the matter of the prophecy more deeply. It would behoove us to be prepared for anything, no matter how unlikely it seems." Her leather bustier crackled slightly as she leaned over the table to look at the Fairy Queen, who rolled her eyes, but said nothing.

"Thank you. That is a most practical outlook," Cieran said. "Now, if we might return to the problem of the refugees, does anyone have any solutions?"

"We've begun to set up camps for our refugees outside of Glastonbury, but if the influx of people continues to grow, we will be overrun," stated Gwenna. Her husband nodded.

"Most of our people are farmers, not warriors. However, I have stepped up recruitment and begun building border outposts." Conor looked slightly smug at this.

Gwenna's ink stained hands shuffled through the documents on the table in front of her. "We've come across some infor-"

Andris snorted rudely. "Might as well build a twenty foot wall around your land, it would be of more use than a few outposts."

"You're one to talk Andris! Your eastern and northern borders leak like sieve!" Conor shot a dark look at his northern neighbor. Gwenna rolled her eyes and propped an elbow on the table as her husband spoke.

"If you have a way to cover that many mountain passes, Conor, I'd be glad to hear it," snapped Andris. "We both know that it's almost impossible to cover them all. I don't have the manpower. I've stepped up recruitment, but if I push for any more soldiers, there won't be a dwarf left who isn't either a child or an elder. I've even begun allowing the recruitment of our women!"

Conor had the decency to look slightly ashamed, but he didn't back down. "The fact still remains that most of the Orcs who attack both my kingdom and Helimar's are coming through your land."

"The dwarves cannot be responsible for holding back every Orc in the north!"

Helimar stood and slammed his hands on the table in front of him. "Nor do we expect you to!" He leaned forward, his dark hair falling in straight sheets on either side of his face as he spoke. Habitually silent, the king of the dark elves was given more to introspection than public address. "Our kingdoms are about to be torn to shreds by those savages in the north," he said looking pointedly at Conor and Andris. He looked around the rest of the table, gazing at each monarch in turn, his black eyes as hard as obsidian. "Yet, we sit here hurling accusations at each other as if it will solve the problem!"

Helimar straightened and crossed his arms. Like his wife, he wore mostly dark leather. Combined with his darker skin tone, it made him look like a shadow in the sunlit room. "Twylithia and I have also stepped up border patrols, and we are actively trying to discover their path through the mountains," he continued, his voice calmer but still impassioned. "Once we find it, we will be able to eliminate that route into our kingdom. I will line our borders with my army if that's what it takes to keep the realms safe!" He paused, then glanced at Andris and Conor again. "If Andris needs more men, then I gladly offer aid in securing our common borders."

Andris looked briefly at the human king of Avalon. "My apologies." His tone was far from conciliatory but he wasn't in the mood to stroke Conor's ego. He turned back to Helimar. "The dwarves thank the dark elves for their offer and will consider it," Andris stated formally. "Perhaps we could meet after the council to hammer out the details?" Helimar and Twylithia both smiled at the dwarven king and nodded their acceptance of his proposal.

Helimar returned to his seat after offering a slight bow to the head of the table by way of apology for his outburst. Cieran nodded his acceptance of the apology. For a few moments, all that was heard in the council chamber was the rustling of garments and the clearing of several throats.

The Queen of the Wood Elves spoke next, her soft voice lulling the listeners into a more peaceful mood for the moment. "Perhaps," murmured Mirima, returning to the matter of the refugees fleeing from the border incursions, "we could consider sending some of the refugees to the Goblin Kingdom. Surely Jareth has somewhere to put them."

"No." Cieran stated flatly. "He is the last line of defense. If we should fail, then he is all that the Underground has left."

Diermuid objected. "Surely more people to swell the ranks of his army would be a good thing?" Andris had wondered when the King of the Wood Elves would be speaking up. Not a council meeting went by that they didn't hear his voice, ad nauseum.

Cieran looked at Diermuid and shook his head. "Jareth already has one of the largest armies in the Underground, he doesn't need any more foot soldiers. Besides, where is he meant to house all of these refugees? I don't want him distracted by logistics if we need him."

"Do you actually expect me to swallow that nonsense?" Diermuid asked. Several sets of eyes around the table widened as he spoke. "We've all been hearing rumors about what's been going on in the Castle Beyond the Goblin City. Thus far, we have assumed that's all they are, rumors." Diermuid stood and adjusted his tunic. The chain of detailed gold leaves around his neck glinted, catching the sunlight as he continued to speak. "But if you're going to sit here and tell me that Jareth can't handle a few thousand refugees, then I think the council needs to look into what's been going on in his kingdom."

Andris cringed. Several years ago, he had visited the Castle Beyond the Goblin City at Cieran's request. The High King had heard the rumors about his son and had hoped that Andris, who was Jareth's friend as well his, could talk some sense into the boy. Cieran had already attempted to speak with his son, but his attempts had met with little success. Cieran had privately informed his friend that Jareth had outright told him to mind his own business. The High King had chuckled when he told his friend exactly what Jareth had said to him.

_"He actually told me that unless I was prepared to strip him of his title, or there was a council complaint against him, then I should stay the hell out of his private affairs!" Cieran complained. The dwarf lounged on the couch across from him, whisky in hand. The two friends sat in front of a roaring fire in Andris' private study in Bhandarth. Outside the windows of the tower that was set into the mountains peak, snow fell fast. Although the wind howled around the stones outside, the fire kept the chill at bay._

_Cieran looked slightly crestfallen as Andris let out a hearty laugh at the reaction of his friend. "Oh come now, Cieran." Andris cajoled. "That's exactly what you would have said in his place, and you know it!"_

_The tall blonde Fae in front of the fire smiled in spite of himself. "You're right, my friend. In fact, I can remember telling my own father to mind his own business on several occasions."_

_"Yes, and I remember my grandfather telling me about the time your father tried to step in and take a hand while you were courting Rhiannon."_

_Both friends laughed and Andris was once again struck, as he had been in the past, by the resemblance between father and son. Besides age and hairstyle, the only difference between the two were Jareth's eyes. One was clear and icy blue, like Cieran's, and the other was dark and mysterious._

_Cieran had returned to his duties in Fialis the next morning. Andris, as requested, had journeyed to the Goblin Kingdom to see what was going on there._

Andris hadn't had any more luck getting through to Jareth than his father had. Jareth rarely emerged from his chambers for the entire two weeks Andris spent in the Goblin Kingdom. He had been forced to rely on Jareth's subjects to tell him what was going on. One of them, the little fox-terrier knight, had told him that a girl named Sarah had run the Labyrinth and beaten it, but then he clammed up and refused to say more. In the end, Andris had returned to his own kingdom after bluntly telling Jareth that he was behaving like an ass. He sent a letter to Cieran, detailing all he had learned in the Goblin Kingdom, as well as what he had seen of the state of the Labyrinth itself.

The dwarven king had been unsurprised to learn that Cieran had gone to the Goblin Kingdom himself several weeks later. Andris was even less surprised to learn that the two had gotten into a splendid row. It culminated in Jareth throwing his father out of the Castle as Cieran threatened to strip his throne from him. Andris and Rhiannon were able to talk Cieran out of any rash, and politically suicidal, actions; such as disinheriting the Crown Prince in a moment of pique, or publicly humiliating a ruling monarch, son or not. They were less successful in convincing him to attempt to speak with Jareth again. As it was, Cieran had vowed not to see Jareth "...until that boy gets his head out of his ass and offers me a formal apology!"

That had been nearly a year and a half ago, and as far as he knew, Cieran and Jareth had not spoken since.

* * *

Cieran could tell that Diermuid was sensing a political advantage. The infuriating man could always sense when anything could be turned to his advantage. Diermuid pushed harder when the High King made no immediate answer to his accusation. "Well? Is there anything that the council should be made aware of in the Goblin Kingdom?"

Cieran repressed a groan, the well groomed Elf who ruled the wood elves had been a thorn in his side for more years than he could count. Ever power hungry, Diermuid pursued each and every opportunity to gain more ruthlessly.

Cieran had hoped to keep the situation with his son under wraps until it was resolved. But, faced with an inquiry headed by his strongest political opponent on the council, he had no choice other than to reveal what he knew. "I don't know what has been going on with my son for the past five years or so," he hedged, "but he has been unusually reclusive."

Diermuid snorted. "We know that much, Cieran, but my sources tell me that you visited the boy yourself a little over a year ago, and that your lovely lady wife visited him no more than a few months ago." He smiled victoriously and resumed his seat before continuing. "Surely you know more than that." Diermuid hooked one booted ankle over his knee and sat back in his chair to gloat.

Inwardly, Cieran swore viciously.  _Damn Diermuid, and his informants, to bloody hell! The man devotes far too much fucking time and energy, not to mention money, into spying on his neighbors._  Outwardly, his face remained calm as he studied his opponents expression. He flicked a glance at Andris as he weighed his options. The Dwarf King gave an almost imperceptible nod and then a slight shrug. He jutted his beard toward Diermuid's side of the table and raised his eyebrows.

Cieran clenched his jaw as he returned his gaze to the smirking elf. He knew he only had two choices now. He could reveal the entire affair to the council now that the question had been raised before them. This would allow him to retain some control over the situation and it's outcome. On the other hand, he could deny that he knew anything more than he had already revealed and wait, hoping that Diermuid's network of informants didn't blow his cover story. Realizing that the second scenario was about as likely as the Orcs suddenly requesting to join the Court, he decided to let the council in on the developing situation in the Goblin Kingdom.

"Jareth's kingdom is a bloody mess," Cieran said bluntly, hoping to shock the council into listening rather than devolving into chaos at the news. It did not have the desired effect.

"What!" Several members of the council exclaimed in shock and outrage. Twilithia rose from her place at the table and began to pace, her low heeled boots slamming against the marble floor. Cieran noticed Andris watching her approvingly. Her leather pants and knee high boots hugged her curves as her slender form strode furiously back and forth in front of the windows.

"How is it," Diermuid inquired carefully, putting both feet back on the floor so he could lean forward and rest his elbows on the table, "that this is the first we are hearing of this?" His usually warm brown eyes had turned hard.

Cieran folded his arms across his chest defensively. "Until now, we have been treating it as a family matter." Rhiannon shifted uncomfortably at his side and he ground his teeth in frustration. Damn that boy! Cieran knew that he had indulged his son for far too long. No matter what was going on, he should have been taken to task years ago when his kingdom had begun to suffer.

"What has happened?" Helimar asked.

"When did this start?" Conor wanted to know in the same moment.

Cieran held up a hand and was gratified to see the room fall silent. Twilithia continued to pace, her footfalls blending with the crashing of the surf and the cries of the gulls on the cliff outside. "From what I was able to gather from my exceedingly reticent son," he said dryly, "a runner has finally managed to beat the Labyrinth." The council stared in shock at the High King.

"Impossible," sneered Diermuid, rising to his feet and finally breaking the silence. "No one has beaten the Labyrinth, save Jareth himself, in the memory of the oldest grandfather we could find. Who among us possesses the ability now?"

Andris spoke up, coming to the defense of the High King. "I understand it was a mortal girl, by the name of Sarah." A glint of amusement shone in his warm, violet eyes. Cieran knew that Andris could not have invented anything that would anger Diermuid more. He also knew that his friend loved tweaking the wood elf's pride. It was the worst kept secret in the Underground that Diermuid had tried on several occasions to beat the Labyrinth, and had failed each time.

Cieran almost laughed at the look of outrage on the face of the elf who stood to his left. Only years of politicking allowed him to keep his amusement in check. Still, he couldn't resist poking the bear, so to speak, just a little. "It appears that my son was quite… taken, with the girl."

Diermuid's eyes nearly bulged out of his head at the thought of the crown prince falling in love with a mere mortal. It was clear to everyone on the council that his sense of propriety was outraged. Like his attempts to solve the Labyrinth in order to become its ruler, it was no secret that he despised those who lived Above. Diermuid had no use for mortals.

Cieran knew that racism was as alive and well in the Underground as it was Aboveground. As High King, he had done much to lessen the degree to which it was felt in the Underground. Those efforts were always hindered by Diermuid's subtle opposition. Although he hid it well, Diermuid merely tolerated the humans who were native to the Underground. He, and others like him, paid lip service to the ideas of equality and inclusiveness, but considered humans second class citizens.

Cieran was aware of the Wood Elven King's prejudice and had been forced to mediate several disputes between Conor and Diermuid that stemmed from the wood elf's bias. The High King had known that the idea of Jareth being captivated by the runner would be even more outrageous to Diermuid because the girl in question wasn't just human, she was mortal. Diermuid's intolerance was one reason that he had kept his suspicions about his son to himself. In retrospect, Cieran wondered if he shouldn't have refrained from voicing that last remark.

The humans that were native to the Underground had a lifespan and abilities similar to that of the elves and dwarves. Like the other races, they had various skills and contributed to society in various ways. They had their own kingdom and a presence on the council in the form of Conor and Gwenna. Cieran couldn't understand how, despite knowing all this, Diermuid stubbornly persisted in his belief that humans were inferior.

"And where is this amazingly lucky mortal?" Diermuid growled.

"She returned Above," Cieran answered sedately, hoping that would be the end of the discussion about the girl. He and Andris had discussed the possibility that this girl was somehow connected to the prophecy, provided that the prophecy was more than the "ravings of a delusional centaur witch doctor" as Shaylee had so colorfully put it. Cieran was still not convinced that it was a genuine prophecy. Like all prophecies, it was vague to the point of being useless.

"And I take it that this is what caused Jareth to become a hermit?" Twilithia had stopped pacing and now stood next to the window.

Gwenna giggled slightly. "It isn't all that bad, Jareth is just working through a slight infatuation."

"Why didn't he just bed the girl and move on?" Helimar asked pragmatically.

Rhiannon leaned forward in her seat and spoke for the first time. Her role in council meetings was generally that of an observer, although as High Queen she was certainly not restricted to that role. Cieran highly valued her opinions, and she was adept at reading people. Many of his most brilliant political manoeuvres had been the fruit of her insight.

"I believe that she rejected him," she said quietly. The entire council was slightly taken aback. This piece of news added more credence to the tale of her solving the Labyrinth. Jareth was a master manipulator, as well as a very handsome and desirable Fae. Any woman, particularly a mortal, would be hard pressed to refuse him. Add his magical abilities, the likes of which had not been seen since the Court came into being, and it was nigh impossible.

"Perhaps it is time for us to select a wife for him," Shaylee suggested, her bored expression disappearing as quickly as the fairies she ruled often did. Several people smiled tolerantly. Nothing piqued the interest of the Fairy Queen faster than the hint of intrigue or the possibility of a wedding.

Cieran opened his mouth to object but was cut off by Diermuid's quick approbation. "I think that is a fine idea. Just the thing to help him forget that troublesome mortal." He smiled. "Shaylee and I will winnow through the entire court, if necessary, to choose a proper wife for the Goblin King!"

Cieran inwardly cursed his reticence. Had he been more forthcoming about the situation with Jareth, he might now have been in a position to reject their suggestion. As it was, he was left without grounds to object. His son did need to marry and produce an heir, and those two had been continually urging him to settle the matter for the last two hundred years.

A knock sounded on the door of the council chamber. Cieran welcomed the distraction from the disagreeable topic of conversation. He hoped that Shaylee's suggestion would be forgotten, although he didn't hold out much hope for that outcome. On the topic of Jareth's status as a bachelor, Diermuid was like a dog with a bone. Now that he had the opening he needed to persuade the council of the necessity of forcing the Crown Prince to marry, Diermuid wasn't likely to let the opportunity pass.

"Enter," called Cieran. He was surprised to see his personal assistant enter the room. Theodas was nothing if not proper, and would only have interrupted for something urgent.

"These just came for you, your Majesty," Theodas said with a bow. In his hand, he held a silver tray. On the tray were two dispatches from the Diplomatic Office.

"Thank you." Picking up the dispatches, Cieran waved his hand to dismiss the elf from the council room. These must be the replies he had been waiting for.

Twylithia turned from the window she had been gazing out of. "What's that?"

Cieran quickly opened the dispatches and then passed them to Andris, who sat on his right.

"Several weeks ago, I sent diplomatic emissaries to Mother Rakash and Elder Samoth, pleading with them to join us at this council session."

Mirima shook her head. "I take it that they declined?"

"The emissary was never even able to catch up with the centaurs," Cieran said in disgust. He ran a hand over his face in disgust as he read the report. "They wander off into that grassland of theirs, and no one can find them if they don't want to be found."

"What of the Troll Matriarch?" asked Helimar, who had not yet seen the dispatches.

"She sends her regrets. The Council of Mothers has determined that the Troll Protectorates will maintain their strict policy of isolation until the current crisis has passed."

"Typical," said Twylithia as she read the dispatches over Andris' broad shoulder.

Andris grunted as he passed the dispatches to Helimar. "The Council of Mothers has always been on the fence about joining the Court as it is. Nearly half of them would have voted to remain Unaligned, if they thought they could have survived on their own."

"They are only doing what they think is best for their people," Mirima said. "Mother Rakash and the Council of Matriarchs are depending on the terrain to protect them. They think that if they remain quiet and non-combative, they will be left alone. Who else could survive in that desert that they choose to call home? I can't imagine that the Orcs will be likely to bother them."

"The Orcs aren't likely to bother them," Conor repeated with heat creeping into his voice. "Nevertheless, we all took the same oath when we joined the Court. They swore to uphold the laws of the Court and protect the Heart of the Underground, we all did. If nothing else, they should be supporting those of us who struggle daily to keep the ravening hordes of the north from descending on the rest of you like a ton of bricks!"

Gwenna reached out and placed her hand on Conor's arm in a soothing gesture, while Andris looked at his southern neighbor with respect. Angrily, Conor shook her off and rose from his seat to pace in front of the windows where the Dark Elven Queen had been pacing just minutes before.

Shaylee sat upright in her chair, her blue eyes hard as she glared at Conor. "Those of us in the south are no less committed to our oaths than you, King of Avalon," she said in an icy voice. "However, I see no Orcs crossing the Troll borders and wreaking havoc. Perhaps you should strengthen your defenses, instead of casting aspersions on those who clearly have a handle on our kingdom's security. After all, I haven't heard any mention of trolls among the raiding parties. Yet humans have been seen raiding in the Dwarf King's lands."

"You dare to question my loyalty?" Conor stalked around the table until he was towering over the pretty brunette. "You dare to tell me that because I happen to share a border with those Unaligned monsters, that I am not upholding my oaths to your satisfaction?" Conor was practically quivering with rage. "Perhaps, Your Majesty, you should leave your bower once in awhile to see what is occurring in the real world! Not everything is flowers and sunshine, and my subjects pour out their lifes blood to protect-"

He was cut short by the hand of the High King descending upon his shoulder. While the eyes of everyone on the council had been riveted on the human king, Cieran had abandoned his seat and approached Conor from behind. He pulled him away from the wide eyed Fairy Queen.

"That's enough, Conor," he commanded, spinning his vassal around and looking him in the eye. Conor colored slightly but said nothing. The rage in his eyes died, but his passion remained undimmed, despite the High Kings chastisement.

"No one here questions your commitment to your oaths," Cieran stated in a voice that would allow no argument. "It does us no good to be at each other's throats." The High King looked over at Andris, and the two friends shared a meaningful glance. They would talk later about what the Dwarf King had said earlier.

No one spoke for nearly a minute. Gwenna shifted her weight in her chair and broke the silence that descended on the council chamber. "Shaylee has a point though."

Conor spun to face his wife, outrage showing plainly on his features that she would side against him. Gwenna raised her hands placatingly to her husband. "Please, before you get all outraged, listen to what I have to say."

Conor grunted at her, although his expression remained aggrieved as she began to speak again.

"Shaylee has pointed out one interesting thing," the pretty blonde woman reiterated. "She said that humans have been seen raiding the Dwarven kingdom."

"Yes," answered Andris, "so my council has learned. I don't know why we are bringing it up again."

"Well, I've been working to make accommodations for the refugees, as I said before. In doing so, I've also come across some interesting information. Some of the families that come to the city seeking refuge from the raids, have told me that they are missing members."

"So? They are being killed by the raiders," Twylithia stated, ready to dismiss Gwenna's statement.

"No," the bookish blonde replied. "That's just it, they're not. All of those people who are missing disappeared before the raids on their area happened. That got my attention. So, I asked our steward to compile a list of all the missing persons and creatures from throughout the kingdom. The result was… worrying."

"How so?" asked Helimar, leaning forward and giving Gwenna his full attention.

"Far more people and creatures have gone missing over the past few years than is normal." Gwenna shuffled through the papers she had stacked in front of her, looking for the one which had the pertinent figure on it. "Ah, here it is. From our kingdom alone, several hundred persons have gone missing each year, for the past five or so years."

Helimar's jaw dropped at the figure. "How could that many be missing?"

Gwenna shook her head. "I don't know. We launched an investigation, but we have yet to figure out where they are going."

Cieran drew in a deep breath. This couldn't possibly be an isolated problem. "Has anyone else noticed a spike in the number of missing persons?"

No one said anything for a moment.

"We haven't noticed a spike in missing persons but..." began Helimar.

Twylithia made a shushing motion with her hand, but it was too late. The attention of the council was now fixed on the dark elves. Cieran raised his eyebrows at them, and Twylithia sighed.

"There has been some trouble from some of our more… savage... subjects," she admitted.

Gwenna's brows furrowed in concern. "What kind of trouble?"

"They are becoming harder to control."

"How so?" Cieran's eyes bored into the dark elven queen causing her pale skin to flush in embarrassment.

"They have begun to take chances that they shouldn't, to visit the Aboveground without proper leave and torment the mortals there. On a few occasions, we have even caught them tormenting our other subjects; nightmares doing what they do, and succubi preying on isolated village lads, things like that. There have even been some rumors of vampires rising in the forest."

"And when were you going to bring this to the attention of the council?" Diermuid sounded outraged. Cieran privately wondered whether he was outraged on behalf of the council, or just personally offended that he was kept out of the loop.

Twylithia shrugged. "It had not yet gotten bad enough that we felt the need to bring it to the attention of the council. We have gone through such times before. They usually coincide with periods of upheaval in the Aboveground. Human wars always seem to make the more sinister faery creatures restless."

Helimar nodded in agreement and said, "We didn't think that there was any reason to distract the council with an internal problem. As far as we are aware, it has not yet become a cause for concern to our neighbors."

"Very well." Cieran stated. "Keep the council apprised of the situation. Now is not the time to keep things to ourselves. Furthermore, I want a census taken. I want a tally of the missing from every kingdom on my desk within three months. We have to know whether this is just a fluke, or if our citizenry is abandoning the Court in favor of the Unaligned." His voice rang with the authority of the High King as he commanded the council. Each individual monarch bowed their head in acquiescence, recognizing that authority.

"If there is no other business," Cieran said, "then this meeting is adjourned for the day, we will reconvene tomorrow. I'm sure we all have a great deal to think about." He rose from his seat and offered a hand to Rhiannon. She took it and rose gracefully. The rest of the council bowed politely as their High King and Queen swept regally out of the council chamber.


	4. What's said, is said.

**_Disclaimer_**   _\- I Don't own any of the original work by Jim Henson and Co._

A/N- Special thanks to ladyofshalott19 for being my beta!

**Warning -**  Mild cursing and some (very, VERY slightly) suggestive themes ahead.

* * *

_I wish the goblins would come and take you away, right now!_ A woman's voice reverberated through the castle. It was followed by the sound of a slap and the shocked gasp of someone female. Jareth groaned. For once, he was actually in his office.

_Not now_ , he thought in irritation.  _I have enough to deal with right now_. He looked around his office, which was piled high with paperwork. His cherrywood desk was invisible under several layers of documents that required his attention. There were several stacks of books piled haphazardly on the floor. On the other side of the desk, one of the chairs facing him was also stacked high with paperwork. The room was dim, the afternoon sun blocked by thick curtains that had once been white. They were now dingy and dust covered, like the rest of the room. The couch on the far wall looked very much as though a family of mice had moved in.

From past experience, Jareth knew that the work piled up alarmingly when he was away, even if it was only for a few days. In this case, it had been several years since he kept on top of it consistently. His mother had pointed out, none too gently, that he had a duty to perform. Queen Rhiannon had been less than pleased with both his behavior and the state of his kingdom. She had told him so, at length. Jareth grimaced at the memory as he picked up another pile of reports, ignoring the summons for a few moments longer. A large number of these documents were so old as to be useless. Still, he had to sort through it all in order to make sense of it. He would have to check up on many of the older reports, despite their age, as the situations had likely deteriorated since the report was brought to his office.  _I really need to look into replacing my personal secretary,_  he thought. Surely someone must have been dealing with some of this over the last several years.

Jareth felt the magic of the Labyrinth stirring. It was beginning to react to the unanswered summons. Sighing, he left off sorting the paperwork that was piled everywhere and considered the implications of a summons coming right now. The last thing he really needed right now was to have to deal with a runner. The Labyrinth was in no shape for it either. Many of the reports Jareth had managed to go through so far had been about crumbling walls, serious cave-ins plaguing the tunnels, or dangerous creatures seen prowling the Labyrinth. A mortal runner would have to be carefully watched to ensure his or her safety. He had yet to personally set foot in the Labyrinth since Sarah ran it. He needed to get out there so that he could magically inspect or repair much of it himself. He would have preferred to do that before a runner challenged the Labyrinth again, but the law of the Labyrinth was clear. Someone had wished a child away, and Jareth was obliged to appear and offer that person the chance to regain the child. Rolling his eyes, he transformed into his owl shape and flickered into the mortal realm. It was going to be a long afternoon.

As Jareth appeared in the mortal realm, his arrival touched off a sudden thunderstorm. He was used to that, but he was surprised at where he found himself.  _A cemetery? This is an odd place to wish away a child._

Landing on a tree limb, he looked around and was extremely surprised to see a massive number of faery creatures gathered on a nearby hill. Not only his goblins, who had been summoned when he was, but many, many other kinds as well. After a moment, he got another shock as his brain registered the fact that they were nearly all Unaligned.  _What are they doing here?_

Peering through the rain, Jareth looked around for the person who had just wished away a child. Generally he appeared very close to the wisher and came striding around a corner. Given that he was outside, during the day, he thought it more prudent to put a little bit of distance between himself and the mortals. He hadn't expected such a public setting. Jareth was able to make out two figures facing each other under a canopy set up on the top of the hill. The canopy was rapidly shredding in the wind. His goblins were hanging back, behind the others, unsure of how to deal with the mass of faery creatures that surrounded the distant figures. Ordinarily, most of Jareth's goblins would have been gone by now. Only a few generally stayed to help him handle the mortal wisher. Jareth couldn't figure out what his goblins were waiting for. Why hadn't they taken the child to his castle as usual?

Jareth watched as seconds ticked by. No one moved, despite the fact that the canopy had now blown away in the wind, and the mortals were getting drenched as they stood there facing each other. With another mental sigh, Jareth floated down through the rain on silent wings. He began the change, even before he could fully see the mortals who stood there. Leave it to the goblins to make a muddle of a simple, well... kidnapping. They were loyal to a fault but could be rather lacking in intelligence sometimes. Just as his talons hit the wet earth, he noticed that both figures appeared to be adults. There was no child in sight.  _What is going_ on  _here?_  He thought in irritation.

Jareth completed the change back to his Fae form and grimaced at the rain soaking through his clothing. The armor he wore to intimidate wishers looked impressive but did nothing to keep him dry in the downpour. He strode toward the hill where the two figures still stood. Looking up, he saw that one of them seemed to shimmer slightly with a subdued rainbow aura of latent power. It was free magic, combined with some that had the strong flavor of the Labyrinth itself. He looked around at the silent throng of faery creatures and realized that they had, for some strange reason, been releasing power into this mortal. He wondered what on earth the silly creatures had been playing at.

Mortals shouldn't ever have to hold that much power. It did strange things to them. Many who were given power, even on a much smaller scale, went insane very quickly. Alexander the Great certainly had. The silly fool was given power by his Fae lover and subsequently went out on a mad bid to try to rule the world. Jareth remembered his father telling him the story of Alexander when he was a youngster. Eventually, Alexander died young, his mortal body no longer able to contain the power he held. It had burned out his life force.

By the looks of that aura, the amount of power that had been given to this mortal far exceeded the amount that Jareth had heard was given to Alexander. She would be lucky to live even a few more days Aboveground. He sighed; it was such a pity. He would have to take the mortal woman away and keep her somewhere safe, where she couldn't do any damage, until the inevitable happened. It was a sad, but necessary, duty. As he resumed his walk toward the two women, he pondered whether the Court should be informed of the actions of the Unaligned. They liked to keep an eye on those who had chosen to remain separate, just in case they decided to make trouble for the Court. Jareth wasn't sure that this peculiar situation was one that needed to be reported. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have hesitated to bring such an occurrence to his father's attention regardless, but their relationship had been strained as of late. Jareth grimaced, strained was putting it mildly. Pushing his father from his mind, Jareth considered the possible ramifications of retaining the information. Without a doubt, the woman would die, but did the Council need to get involved? He wondered if the mortal had somehow offended the Unaligned? If she had, then he would definitely have to inform the High Council. It wasn't likely, but there was no reason for them to have done this to the woman either. They knew better. Then, he was close enough to see the identity of the shimmering figure and none of that mattered anymore.

It was Sarah.

Quickly, he transported himself back under the shelter of a dripping pine tree. Jareth cursed softly under his breath. How was he supposed to deal with  _this_? For the second time in his life, he found himself in a situation that he wasn't sure he could control. The fact that the first time had also involved Sarah made him far more wary the second time around. He pondered the situation as the rain fell.

Now he knew why the goblins hadn't taken the child. There was no  _child_  to take. That meant, that by the rules of the Labyrinth, he shouldn't even be here. Something very strange was going on, and he felt that he had a limited amount of time to figure out what it was and what he should do about it. He peered out at Sarah and the other woman. They were still surrounded by faeries.

Not knowing how to handle the bizarre situation, he lingered under the tree. Jareth was still watching Sarah, weighing his options, when he ran out of time to figure it out. Sarah began to sob, her face buried in her hands, and her step mother moved forward with her hand raised to strike her again. At that movement, all of the faeries in the cemetery rushed forward with an angry cry. They had all moved to protect Sarah- even his goblins! Bewildered and angry, Jareth was about to intervene when the woman threatening Sarah noticed the faery horde for the first time and let out a scream. Karen froze where she stood, her arm poised for a strike that never landed. For a few moments, neither woman moved. Jareth continued to watch as Sarah looked up at the sound, took in the situation, and flinched back slightly from the creatures that surrounded her. After a few moments of breathless suspense, he watched Sarah pull herself together slightly. She raised her chin and looked defiantly at her stepmother, as if daring her to deny that she saw the creatures as well. The faeries were now alternately fawning over Sarah and making menacing faces at the other woman. Sarah seemed uncomfortable being surrounded by the faery creatures. Jareth wasn't surprised. The transfer of that much power must have been a traumatic experience. He was surprised she hadn't run screaming, but then, Sarah always surprised him with her strength. At least she had stopped her damnable tears. How he both relished and hated seeing her cry!

Making a snap decision, Jareth strode forward into the rain. He had been called as the Goblin King, and the rules required that he present himself as the Goblin King. He checked over his imposing black armor as he went. Satisfied that everything about his appearance was as it should be, he took a steadying breath. This wasn't going to be easy. Setting aside everything else, he allowed the cold, indifferent mask of the Goblin King to settle over his face as he went up the hill to confront them both.

* * *

For a moment after Karen spoke, Sarah was frozen in shock. She couldn't believe what Karen had just said. Despite the fact that she was still trembling with fatigue and feeling unaccountably drunk, Sarah had a momentary urge to take a swing right back at Karen. The only thing that stopped her was her consternation at being hit in the first place as well as her own damn weakness.  _Damn Jareth and his Labyrinth!_ Her life had never been the same since he took Toby. She should have been a carefree young woman, taking college classes and dating. Instead she had spent years of her life in treatment centers and hospitals. She'd had to put up with smug psychologists, pitying counselors, pushy nurses, and finally Dr. Preston. It was all just too much, she was on the very edge of descending into complete madness. Sarah couldn't keep up her brave front one second longer. She broke down and sobbed, no longer caring that Karen watched her.

Sarah wondered if she might collapse, right there on the muddy ground, beside her parents' grave. The combination of grief and nerves was nearly overwhelming her fragile state of mind. She didn't see Karen's look of hatred, nor her hand poised to strike again. At that very moment, Sarah was beyond caring about anything and could do nothing but give vent to her overwrought feelings.

Gradually, as if they were coming from far away, a strange series of sounds penetrated through her tears. First, there was a sort of growling and hissing from the assembled creatures. Then, Karen screamed in terror. Startled out of her tears, Sarah looked up to find herself surrounded by the very creatures who had been tormenting her several minutes before. Automatically, she cringed away from them, expecting more of the same treatment. After several moments, Sarah realized that the creatures didn't mean her any harm. Each and every one of them was staring menacingly at her stepmother. Sarah looked at Karen, took in her raised hand, and then looked around at the creatures that now surrounded her like an honor guard. Confused, she wondered at all the little creatures who were gathered around her, even as she stared defiantly at Karen.  _Why would they protect me, after putting me through hell today? What is going on_? Breaking eye contact with her stepmother, Sarah looked around at the faeries surrounding her, still trying to figure out what they thought they were doing.

Sarah was pulled from her confusion when she heard Karen let out a half startled, half longing gasp. She looked up at her stepmother to find her, white faced and terrified, staring, not at her and her strange entourage, but at something beyond her shoulder. Sarah stiffened. She didn't need to turn around to know what had prompted Karen's reaction. She could feel the change in the air. The feeling of danger and attraction was so strong even Karen could feel it. He was here.

* * *

Jareth saw the moment when Sarah became aware of his presence. Despite her frail looks and trembling form, he saw her spine stiffen slightly. Her fists clenched momentarily at her sides, although she did not deign to turn and face him. The faerie beings who surrounded her quickly backed away from the Goblin King, bowed slightly, and disappeared. He dismissed Karen with hardly a glance. She might have been the wisher, but she was completely irrelevant at the moment. Instead, Jareth focused all of his attention on the woman before him. This mortal, who's will rivaled his own, was once again within his grasp. Jareth completely missed the look of hurt, followed by a slowly mounting fury that blossomed on Karen's face.

"Sarah." The proud arrogance in his voice betrayed nothing of the six long years he had spent longing for this meeting. No hint of yearning marred his expression. Jareth would be damned before he would ever again admit that he felt anything for this woman.

The sound of his voice seemed to hit her like another blow to the face. He saw her flinch and begin to tremble, even as she turned to face him. She lifted her chin and stared at him with those defiant green eyes.

"Your Majesty," she stated flatly.

Jareth was shocked at the alteration in Sarah's appearance. She was painfully thin, and the dark circles under eyes bore mute testimony to the fact that she rarely slept well. More shocking still was the sense that she hovered just on the verge of some sort of change. She seemed almost, translucent, somehow. He could easily see that this was not the result of the power that had been given to her. If anything, that power seemed to make her slightly more substantial than she otherwise would have been.

A terrible fear began to gnaw at him. She was dying! His instincts screamed at him to do something, anything, to prevent that from happening. He wouldn't survive if she died. Just her rejection had sent him spiraling into a dark depression, he couldn't imagine what her death would do to him. She had to be protected. Ruthlessly, he crushed the urge to sweep her into his arms. He refused to allow his feelings to dictate his actions any longer. He had spent too many years on this mortal already.  _Perhaps_ , he thought,  _once she…. is gone... I can get on with my life. But I need time, time to conquer my feelings, to purge myself of her influence._  Her hold on him must not be allowed to continue.

Despite her condition, it became immediately apparent to him that her will was as strong as ever. "Why are you here?" she asked him, folding her arms tightly across her chest. "I won. You have no claim on me, or my brother, any longer."

Jareth smirked at her. "What's said, is said." He flicked a glance at her stepmother, who still had not moved. Karen was staring at him, her eyes smouldering with jealousy, but her face impassive.

Sarah scowled. "But, I'm not a child. You can't just take me."

Jareth swept his eyes over the black dress that clung, wet and dripping, to her thin frame. Despite himself, he smiled at the way his imagination painted her, glowing with health, her perfect curves lush and inviting.  _Is she ill, or does she just not eat?_ The thought drifted across his mind, unbidden, spoiling his leering. Seeing her discomfiture at his frank appraisal, he tried to provoke a stronger reaction. "No Sarah, you are most definitely  _not_ a child." When she chose not to comment but only looked away, a blush staining her too thin cheeks, he continued. "But you  _are_  wrong. I most certainly can take you, or your stepmother would not have been able to summon me." He watched with concern, but an impassive face, as Sarah's arms dropped from her chest and her whole body seemed to sag in defeat. Perhaps he had pushed too hard. It wouldn't do for Sarah to lose her spirit now.

Sarah turned to her stepmother. "How could you do this to me?" Sarah's voice told of her anger, her bitterness and her betrayal as clearly as if she had flown into a rage, but it had an undertone of sadness, a despair that told Jareth she knew as well as he did what was coming.

Jareth reluctantly turned his attention to the other woman as well. He could guess how this was going to end without the bother of playing it out, but the conditions had to be satisfied. The woman drew herself straighter under his gaze, ignoring Sarah altogether. The way in which she held her body changed subtly as he scrutinized her. Karen nibbled on her lower lip and then smiled invitingly at him. Jareth has seen this reaction many times. In the past he might have enjoyed playing with the woman, teasing her, making her think that her invitation would win back the child. Now, all he could feel was disgust. Karen didn't want Sarah back, her actions were calculated to capture and hold his attention on herself. This woman actually thought she could hold a candle to Sarah, he marveled. Jareth's upper lip curled in disdain as Karen stepped closer to him. She reached out and placed a hand on his arm, not seeing the expression on his face as she eyed his black clad form. Sarah gaped at her stepmother as Jareth shook her off, causing her to stumble back. Instantly her look of invitation turned to white hot fury at his rejection. Karen stared at him, her eyes nearly burning a hole into his as he returned her glare cooly. His eyes flickered to Sarah and then back to Karen. Sarah was staring at her stepmother with an unreadable look on her face. Karen sneered at Jareth and then turned away from him, dismissing him from her notice.

She turned and stared at Sarah with a haughty expression, but said nothing. For several long moments, the Williams women stood, eyes locked in some silent and unfathomable form of communication. Although the expressions of both women remained inscrutable, their eyes spoke eloquently. Unable to decipher the messages being passed, Jareth waited silently. It was Karen who finally broke the standoff. She turned away from her husband's daughter, disgust and anger showing plainly on her face. When she looked back at him, all Jareth had to do was lift an eyebrow quizzically for the woman to shake her head, turn, and walk away, leaving Sarah alone to face whatever was coming. Never before had he seen someone so carelessly abandoned to their fate.

Jareth looked back at Sarah with a look of triumph on his handsome face, only to have it drain away. Sarah wasn't paying any attention to him. She was staring after her stepmother with a look of sorrow and disbelief. Sarah dropped her gaze to the headstone she was standing beside and placed her hands on top of it to steady herself. He had to lean in to hear her as she whispered, "I'm so sorry Daddy. I never wanted it to end like this." Sarah tried to say more but was unable to get the words out. Instead, she bowed her head and began to weep softly as the realization of why they were in the cemetery slowly dawned on Jareth. They were standing next to her father's freshly dug grave. Reading the headstone, he noted that Sarah's mother was also buried here. Jareth's hands curled into fists as he turned to stare after the quickly retreating form of Karen Williams. He restrained the urge to drown the woman in the Bog for her treatment of Sarah. He began to imagine all sorts of horrible fates that he might subject the woman to. Jareth might have acted upon one or more of the actions his baser instincts suggested, consequences and appearances be damned, if a gasp from the surrounding faery creatures had not caught his attention.

Sarah's shaking had worsened. With a look of surprise on her face, she raised her trembling hands up from the headstone and stared at them. In horror, Jareth watched her knees buckle and her eyes roll into the back of her head.

He managed to catch her as she fell- just before she bashed her head on her parents' headstone. He swung her up and cradled her against his chest. She weighed practically nothing in his arms as he shifted her around so that her head was resting on his shoulder. Her scent hit him like a battering ram, vanilla and ginger. He breathed deeply, the feel of her body settling against his, sweet and innocent in her current state, made him tremble. Jareth stood still, unable to move as he filled his senses with Sarah. Despite his still festering resentment at her rejection six years ago, and his panic at her condition, he continued to hold her possessively close for a few heartbeats. In doing so, he felt as though he was complete for the first time since they had danced during their shared dream. Sarah sighed, her breath stirring the strands of hair that framed his face and pressed herself tighter against him. His arms tightened automatically, bringing her even closer as he rested his cheek against her rain wet hair.

He didn't know how much time had passed as he stood there, marveling at the how  _right_  she felt in his arms, when a final growl of fading thunder broke him out of his reverie. Inwardly, he cursed himself for being a fool. This could never be. Why torment himself further with what he could never possess? Then, with a swirl of his black cloak, he flickered back to his realm, taking Sarah with him.

The lonely gravesite they left behind on the hilltop was silent but for the moaning of the breeze and the pattering of raindrops. The rain continued to fall, but it was beginning to slacken as another figure left the concealment of the trees. Diona walked slowly up the hill. In her hand, she held two bright blue sprigs of forget-me-nots. The flowers seemed especially brilliant in the dim afternoon light of the Aboveground.

When she reached the grave, she stood silently, her head bowed. She didn't move for several minutes. When she finally looked up, she raised her hand and made a sweeping gesture in the direction of the grave. The hole which contained Richard Williams' coffin was immediately filled in and covered with a soft blanket of green grass. Kneeling in the fresh grass, Diona placed both sprigs of flowers at the base of the headstone. With tears flowing freely down her face, she sat silently staring at the stone. After several minutes, she stood with difficulty and raised her hand in a gesture of benediction before disappearing as Jareth and Sarah had.

Left alone by the headstones, the forget-me-nots put down roots and spread until the flowers covered both graves in a blanket of blue petaled flowers.

* * *

He had intended to take her straight to his castle and summon help for her condition. To his surprise, Jareth found himself, not in his throne room, but at the edge of the Labyrinth. Looking around, he realized he was in one of the various locations where he generally left those who chose to try their luck in the Labyrinth. Boulders of various sizes were scattered around in the grass. Several stunted looking trees were growing on the far side of the small clearing. To his right, there was a small pond. The surface of the pond rippled slightly as a breeze blew and the reeds growing along the shore rustled.

Although the area looked desolate, Jareth knew very well that just over the hills that blocked the view to the south and west, there were thriving farms and bucolic farm villages. The people who lived in this area of his kingdom were industrious and hardworking. Much of the grain that was grown in the kingdom was grown here, but you wouldn't know it to look around. By royal decree, no one lived closer to the walls of the Labyrinth itself than two miles. There were no roads and no signs of civilization to speak of. It wouldn't do for a runner to think that help was too close at hand. Jareth had no desire to have to herd reluctant mortal runners away from the towns and villages that kept his kingdom running. It was critical that the illusion of isolation remain intact. Although he found it annoying to be so far removed from the day to day operations of his kingdom, Jareth certainly appreciated the land around the Labyrinth from a strategic, military point of view. The two mile stretch that encircled the Labyrinth gave plenty of visual warning of approaching enemies. It also made the trek to the walls of the Labyrinth hazardous for any invading army. The remoteness of the area allowed him to utilize the land as he saw fit. Jareth was aware that the land around him was pockmarked with tunnels and hidden outposts. He could move scouts and troops anywhere he wanted within the desolate area around the Labyrinth without anyone being the wiser. As always, nothing about the Labyrinth was as it seemed.

Jareth shook his head and tried to turn his attention back to the matter at hand. His thoughts had run along military lines far too often of late. His mother had informed him, during her unexpected visit, that the raids had been especially brutal this year. Her tales of the atrocities committed during those raids had been the wake up call that he needed. Jareth was finally driven out of his self pity and back into the responsibility of running his kingdom. She had reminded him sharply of his duty, and had taken him to task, rather severely, for his years long lapse.

Sarah shifted in his arms and he was once again reminded of the reason for his slide into depression. He looked down at her and again felt a pang in his heart. This wouldn't do. The faster he got her taken care of, the better. He couldn't afford the distraction of her presence right now. The state of his defenses was questionable at best and it would require a great deal of work to bring them back from his neglect.

He gathered the power necessary to transport to the castle, only to have it twist away from him strangely. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. While some people had better luck utilizing their emotions to handle magic, he had always found calm and focus suited his abilities better. When he felt himself to be reasonably calm once more, he tried again, but was still met with the same results. If he hadn't been holding Sarah he would have cursed out loud. Something was interfering with his ability to draw on the power of the free magic that floated through the realms.

An inability to draw on free magic left him with only his personal magic to get Sarah back to the castle and out of his way. Jareth considered his options. He could probably transport them back to the Castle Beyond the Goblin City with his magic, but the drain on his energy would be severe given the distance. He tried to gauge whether the convenience of magical transportation would be worth the exhaustion he was sure to experience once he got there. Jareth grimaced as he faced the Labyrinth itself and saw exactly how far away the castle actually was. He concluded that walking would take more time than recovering from the transportation. With a growl of irritation, he prepared to draw on his own personal magic.

Just then, Sarah stirred and murmured in his arms. He looked down at her with mixed emotions as she shivered in her still wet clothes. Flashes of what seemed to be pain flickered across her face. Just as he was about to try transporting to the castle again, Sarah's eyes popped open.

* * *

For a brief minute, Sarah stared up at Jareth, feeling a strange sense of completion. No pain, no worry, no anger, or fear marred the moment. And then the feeling was gone. They both stiffened, their shared sense of closeness cut off, as if a blade had sliced between them.

Sarah's voice was low and dangerous as she said, "Put. Me. Down." When he hesitated for a moment, her eyes narrowed and she gathered her strength to crack him in the jaw with her fist. It was unnecessary, however, as he transported her straight from his arms. In the next moment, she found herself sitting on a nearby rock.

Sarah closed her eyes for a moment in the vain hope that she would open them to find herself back in her own world.  _Anywhere in my old world would have been better than here_ , she thought.  _My hospital room, my old bedroom, hell, even the cemetery in the rain was better than being forced to return here!_  The minute she thought those words though, she knew she was lying to herself. All these years, a part of her had yearned to return to this magical place, and that part of her was overjoyed. This realization made her angry. She didn't  _want_ to want to be here, with an arrogant, spoiled king who thought he could dominate everyone and everything he came across. With a weary sigh, she opened her eyes and looked over at him.

Jareth stood with his arms crossed over his chest while his feather light, white blonde hair blew in the breeze. He cut an imposing figure in his dark breeches and white shirt. The vest over his shirt was the same dark leather as his pants and Sarah could see his ever present pendant, gleaming in the sunlight as his chest rose and fell. He said nothing, only looked at her, his face an impenetrable mask.

Sarah decided to say nothing. Turning away from him, she settled for attempting to wring the water from her hair and the hems of her dress and coat. She would rather have been wringing his neck though. After several minutes, she was, if not dry, then at least no longer dripping. She was grateful that the seasons seemed to move at a different pace here in the Underground than they did Above. Up there, it was the end of winter. Here, it seemed to be early autumn, and the sun was warm. The rock that she sat on was quite warm as well. Sarah thought about removing her coat but decided against it. Even wet, the wool held in the warmth, and she was nearly always cold, even on the warmest days.

Carefully, Sarah analyzed her condition. The strange sparkles in her vision had lessened, but the drunk feeling persisted. Although that too, was beginning to fade. She was glad that the Goblin King had transported her to a seated position. She wasn't at all sure that she could trust her legs to bear her weight at the moment. The dull ache in her head and the unease in her stomach had become so familiar to Sarah that she had long ago stopped paying attention to that aspect of her illness.

The minutes ticked by, yet still, they pretended to ignore each other. Sarah looked at her surroundings, noting that she was not in the same place where he had left her the last time she had come to the Underground. Jareth still lounged indolently on a pile of rocks, but he had shifted his attention away from her and was now staring off into space with an irritated frown on his face.

A splashing noise drew her attention to a small pond about twenty yards away. Sarah looked at it and was startled to see a pair of pale arms resting on the bank. On top of the crossed arms, was the dark head of the rusalka who had previously curtsied to her in the cemetery. The nymph ignored the Goblin King entirely, but smiled slightly and crooked a finger at Sarah in invitation. Sarah hesitated for a moment. Although she seemed non-threatening, there was always the possibility that she would attack. There were two kinds of rusalka, Sarah knew. There was the kind that were considered benefactors and brought moisture to crops and blessed the fields, and the kind that were more sinister. The sinister type waited for the unwary to approach her bit of water, and then dragged them down to the depths to drown them. Although they usually attacked men, there were a few stories of women being killed by rusalka.

Deciding that the Aboveground actions of the rusalka indicated that she was the nonthreatening type, Sarah took a deep breath and rose slowly from the rock. Instantly, Jareth's eyes locked onto her again, but Sarah didn't notice. She was focused on the nymph who had invited her to approach. She made it only a few steps before the sound of his voice cut through the still air.

"Where, exactly, do you think you are going, Sarah?"

The rusalka glared at the Goblin King before disappearing under the water. Sarah turned to face him, a look of irritation on her face. "See what you did?" she accused. "She wanted to talk to me, but you frightened her away. Is everyone in the Labyrinth afraid of you?"

* * *

The question took Jareth by surprise. While some of his subjects did indeed fear him, most viewed him with profound respect, some even with affection. The question was, frankly, insulting. Even after all these years, she still viewed him as a monster. "No," he ground out, glaring at her.

Sarah raised her eyebrows, her face a picture of amused tolerance as she nodded sarcastically. Jareth felt his temper fray even more. He wanted to shake her. His hands curled momentarily into fists as he tried to regain his composure. "That," he stated sharply, pointing to the pond, "is no subject of mine."

"She's here in your Labyrinth, isn't she?" Sarah's retort was crisp, but her face was slightly puzzled. She turned her head again to look at the pond. The rusalka was nowhere to be seen, although the surface of the pond still rippled with her passing.

Jareth's mouth thinned. Now was not the time for a political history lesson. He still needed to figure out why he was unable to draw on the free magic and what he was going to do about Sarah herself. He held out a gloved hand to her and said, "Come."

Sarah's eyes grew wide and she stepped back a pace. Crossing her arms, she shook her head, her eyes narrowing. "Where are you taking me?"

"To the Castle, of course!" Jareth snorted.

"No!"

"Sarah…" he said in a warning tone.

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" she stated stubbornly. Sarah looked away from him and out over the Labyrinth as though she were studying it. He knew the view was impressive, but not as interesting as she was trying to make it seem.

Jareth ground his teeth in frustration and withdrew his offered hand. "You need help, Sarah," he said, speaking as though she were a small child throwing a tantrum. "You are obviously not well."

Sarah sucked in a breath asher previously distant green eyes blazed with fury. "I'm not a child," she bit out. "Do not treat me like one."

"Very well. Where would milady like to be taken? Perhaps you would prefer to visit the Troll Protectorates? Or Maybe the Fairy Queen's court?" Jareth held up a gloved hand, as Sarah's mouth popped open to reply. "Ah," he drawled. "I know, you wish... to revisit the Bog." His voice dripped with sarcasm as he smirked at her.

* * *

Sarah's breath quickened and she took a step toward the infuriating Fae King. For the second time that day, she had the urge to punch the bastard right in his smug smile. The last time she had been here, she had been too young, too innocent, and far too overawed by him to even consider such an action. She was older now, and wiser. "Don't patronize me, Goblin King. I've had quite enough of  _that_ over the past six years."

"Oh really?" he said condescendingly. "Do tell." He crossed his arms over his chest as he regarded her coolly.

Sarah ground her own teeth and willed herself to be calm. She knew that her temper tantrum wasn't going to get her anywhere, but it felt so good to finally be able to let loose with all of the frustration she had been living with since her first visit to the Underground. She regarded him with narrowed eyes and cocked her head slightly to one side, considering. How much should she tell him? What did he already know?

"Well, Sarah?" he prodded. "What horrible things have you endured since I released you from my presence that night?" He raised an eyebrow sardonically. "What tales of woe have you to relate to me?"

Her tenuous control over her temper snapped.

"Enough!" she screamed at him, her face flushing in anger and her hands open wide at chest level, as though she were going to push him away. "Do you have any idea what I've been through because of you and your stupid games? You ruined my life last time, and I refuse to let you do it again." She was breathing heavily as she reached her hands up and grasped the hair at the sides of her head. She bent nearly double for a moment, and she squeezed her eyes closed in a futile effort to prevent yet more tears from escaping. Releasing her hair, she stood straight, her arms at her sides as she raised her pale face and screamed out six years of frustration and anger. "I will not be treated like a mental patient anymore!"

The cathartic release was nearly as intense as the original feelings had been. Sarah stood still, reveling in the feeling of that release. Dr. Preston had told her, many times, that she needed to let go of her bitterness if she ever hoped to be at peace with her life. She doubted that he had ever pictured her releasing her pent up emotions here, in a place that he adamantly refused to believe existed.  _Until today,_ she thought wryly _, I never expected to see this place again._ If she had the strength, she would have been striding furiously around in exultation.

"Mental patient?" Jareth whispered. His voice startled Sarah. She had been so wrapped up in her emotional pyrotechnics that she had almost forgotten he was standing there. She was slightly mollified that the look of superior sarcasm on his handsome face had fled sometime during her outburst. Her eyes widened as he took a step towards her.

Sarah watched him warily, like a deer caught in a hunters spotlight, as he approached. Sarah's stood frozen as he reached out, his gloved hand ghosting down the side of her face. For a moment, she glimpsed something in his eyes, something she had been too young to recognize before. It frightened her. She wasn't strong enough to play his games this time. Sarah jerked her head away and glared up at him. He dropped his outstretched hand and clenched it into a fist.

Sarah stood her ground, barely, as she watched a muscle twitch on his face. He said nothing for several minutes. His face had returned to its usual stoic mask as she watched him, but Sarah fancied that she saw the beginning hints of the disgust and shame that her current condition always seemed to engender in others. He would disappear at any second, she was sure.  _No one stays once they know,_  she thought bitterly. That fleeting thought caused her to pause. Why in the world did she care if he stayed? He was the cause of all her problems. Wasn't he?

Mentally shaking her head, Sarah wished he would just get it over with. She knew he would banish her back above, and she simply wanted him to do it and be done.  _What's he waiting for? Damn him! Just react already and stop playing games!_  Her anger began to grow again. When he finally did speak, he only managed to fan the smoldering embers of her ire.

"Crazy," he said, his lip curling. He might have said more, but Sarah cut him off before he could.

"Yeah, I'm crazy. But, I'm sure you knew that." Sarah gesticulated wildly before jabbing a finger in his direction. "Must have been quite a laugh for you. Hours of entertainment at my expense and all that."

In three strides, Jareth crossed the distance between them and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders.

"Sarah," he said. "I didn't know. If I had -"

"Right," chortled Sarah, her voice rising in hysteria. Now that he was finally talking again, she found herself looking for ways to provoke him, seeking to end her suspense and trying to force him to push her away. "Just like you didn't know that feeding me that peach would KILL ME!" She was screaming again, right in his face. She twisted violently, breaking away from him and stepping back.

* * *

"Now wait," he said, his own anger beginning to return as he stepped toward her again. How dare she accuse him of trying to kill her. It was absurd.

"No," she cut him off, her eyes flashing dangerously, as she stuck her finger in his face. "I don't care to hear anything else you have to say. The last time we met, my life fell apart."

"I am not to blame for your problems!" he yelled, infuriated, as he always was, by her attitude. "I'm trying to help you, you idiot!"

"I don't want your help!" she yelled back. "I want you to take me home and then leave me the FUCK alone!"

"No," Jareth stated flatly. "I can't do that."

His tone brought Sarah up short. "What do you mean you can't?" Her voice had also dropped from a scream, but hers was now a deadly calm that hinted at the rage to come if she was displeased with his answer.

"You've been given power by those stupid faeries," he growled. "If I take you back Above and leave you, then you really will die." His heart twisted. She had spent the last six years in pain because of his actions. Of course she would blame him for her experience with the faery creatures, just like she blamed him for everything else she had been through. It seemed as though the Fates delighted in watching him play the villain for her. Jareth clenched his fists in anger and frustration until his knuckles cracked and his hands ached with the strain.

Sarah's eyes went dark. "This is all your fault," she breathed. She was trembling again, but this time in anger. "You did this to me," she said, her voice rising with her anger.

Jareth said nothing. He wouldn't dignify her foolish accusation with an answer.

"Admit it," she said. "I was right, back there in the cemetery. You made them do this to me so I couldn't leave!"

"No," he said, stung at her accusation. "I have no need of such games."

"Everything is just a game to you! You play with the lives of everyone around you for your own amusement, and you don't care what the results are!"

That struck a little too close to home for his comfort. There had been times in the past when that had been true, but he had never meant to hurt Sarah. With her, he had been playing for keeps. He reached out to her again, but she sidestepped him. "Believe me Sarah," he said, his tone low and dangerous. "I'm through playing. You  _are_  coming with me."

"No, I'm not." She turned her back on him and began to walk away.

It took Jareth no more than a few seconds to catch up with her. He grabbed her around the waist, trying again to transport them, but Sarah made an inarticulate sound of rage, reminiscent of an irritated cat. Stomping down as hard as she could on his foot, she twisted out of his hands again.

"Don't touch me!" she yelled.

"Damn it, woman!" he yelled back, quickly shifting his weight so that he was no longer using his abused appendage. "Why can't you be reasonable?"

"Fuck you! I can take care of myself." Sarah turned to leave again. This time, he let her go.

"Fine!" he exclaimed. "Stay here! Wander off and get lost! There are worse things in the Underground than me. When you finally come to your senses, come find me. You know where I'll be."

Sarah shot a poisonous glance back over her shoulder at him as he disappeared.

As soon as he was gone, Sarah stopped walking. The adrenaline that was keeping her on her feet began to ebb as her body shook in the aftermath of the rush. She collapsed onto the ground where she stood. Tears poured down her face, and she couldn't even begin to process what had happened to her in the last few hours.

* * *

Jareth appeared in his throne room and immediately began pacing back and forth. His confused subjects took one look at their king and scurried away, not wanting to incur his wrath. Jareth ran a hand through his wild blonde mane in agitation and then created a crystal to see what Sarah was doing. The crystal remained clear. He still couldn't see her with his magic.

"FUCK!" he screamed, and threw the offending crystal against the far wall, where it exploded into a shower of tiny pieces. He threw himself onto his throne and picked up his riding crop, which he promptly began smacking against his booted calf with enough force to be painful, even through the leather of his boot.

He rubbed his forehead with his hand and attempted to regain his temper.  _Let her wander around in the Labyrinth for a few days,_  he thought angrily.  _Eventually she'll realize that I'm the only one who will help her._  She would have to come to him. The thought soothed his pride, even if it did nothing to lessen his outrage.

As his anger toward Sarah quickly cooled, Jareth sat in his throne, brooding alone over all he had learned. The fact that Sarah had been in a mental hospital was a shock to him. Although it did explain her absence during the few times he had gone Aboveground to try to locate her. It didn't explain his inability to see her via magical means however.

Setting that well known, and irksome, fact aside, he considered another aspect of their interactions. When she had screamed, releasing her pent up anger and frustration, he had reached out to her, only wanting to offer comfort, but she pulled away from him. Still, he was angrier at himself for that than he was at her. She had made her feelings clear, and yet, he persisted in pushing for a reaction that wasn't there. No wonder she had grown angry.  _I've been with my share of women,_  he thought.  _I could have any woman I wanted in the entire Underground panting at my feet any time I want. What is it about_ this  _girl that drives me so mad?_

He jerked his mind away from that dangerous territory. Getting back to the problem of what to do with Sarah, he remembered something else. She had accused him of trying to kill her by giving her that peach. Jareth covered his eyes with his hand and rubbed his forehead while he thought about it. It was absurd to think that; she had been perfectly fine as soon as the effects of the dream spell had worn off. He thought idly about it for a few more minutes before a sudden thought made him bolt upright.

That peach.

_Jareth was watching a much younger Sarah in a crystal as she made her way through his Labyrinth. She was doing far better than he had hoped. He was beginning to worry that he might actually lose their little game. He lounged in a chair in his private sitting room, a bowl of fruit on the side table at his elbow. Idly, he considered how he might slow her down and advance his suit at the same time. As his thoughts wandered, his eyes fell on the fruit. An idea blossomed in his head. He reached out and took a peach from the bowl, infusing it with a dream spell, he smiled to himself. He knew just what kind of dream would appeal to her most._

Jareth jerked him mind away from the memory with a sick feeling. That peach. He hadn't even considered the fact that it had been grown here in the Underground. It was Fae food. He knew what happened to a mortal who ate Fae food. It was a miracle that Sarah had survived as long as she had. Jareth began to breath hard as he thought about her condition. She was right. He had nearly killed her.

Jareth groaned as the full force of what he had done hit him. Why hadn't he just created a normal Aboveground peach with magic? His guilt was as clear as it was agonizing. Sarah had nearly died, and he turned her accusation aside with scorn. He slumped back in his throne with his legs stretched out, one booted ankle crossed over the other. He rested his head on his hand and stared into space, wallowing briefly in misery.

Unbidden, his thoughts drifted back to holding Sarah in his arms in the rain Aboveground. For one achingly brief moment, he had been whole. He remembered the feel of her. The smell. How she had sought a closer connection with him in her unconscious state. He allowed his mind to drift, imagining that such moments were not stolen indulgences, but freely given and lovingly bestowed.

Suddenly, the image of Sarah as she wept over her parents' grave flashed through his mind. His heart gave a painful lurch in his chest as he remembered the way she looked at him when he tried to comfort her not an hour ago. His lips curled and his face took on a look of self-loathing. Jareth swung the riding crop down against the arm of his throne so hard that he snapped it in half.

A knock sounded on the doors to the throne room. Jareth snarled at the interruption and flung the crop onto the floor before barking, "Enter!"

"I heard there was a commotion in here." The blonde Fae who entered took in the shattered crystal, the snapped riding crop lying on the floor next to the throne, and the mood of the king in a single glance. He raised an eyebrow at his king and said, "Trouble, Jareth?"

"Ethan," Jareth acknowledged his chief military officer with a scowl. "What do you want?"

The general shook his head. "Nothing, but the castle staff all came running to me, begging me to check on you before you leveled the castle." He gestured around the throne room. "There was a summons."

Jareth understood the unspoken question and answered it. "It's done."

"Really?" he asked in a disbelieving tone. Ethan had served Jareth for nearly two decades as Command General and had been his friend since they were both youngsters, just beginning sword training. He knew when he was being given the brushoff.

Jareth looked warily at his old friend. He knew that Ethan didn't believe him, but he wasn't yet sure what to tell him. Finally, he sighed and stood up. "Come on," he said to his longtime friend, "it's a long story, and I need a drink."

Ethan laughed and clapped Jareth on the shoulder as the two of them went in search of a quiet room, some comfortable chairs, and a bottle of fine dwarven whiskey.


	5. With a Little Help from my Friends

The Usual  **Disclaimer -** I do not own any of the original characters from the movie.

A\N - Thanks to everyone who has bookmarked or left kudo's on the story as well as those of you who have taken the time to leave a comment. A big thank you to my beta ladyofshalott19 who edited- and even talked me down late at night when I was ready to throw my computer out the window. Another thanks to my husband as well for his editing, even if it did piss me off. Also thanks to my behind the scenes reader dcmccorkle!

* * *

_I'm so bored_.

Chiara lounged on a vine near the top of the Labyrinth's outer wall. She had spent the better part of a week watching Hoggle, but the grumpy little Guardian did nothing but putter with his plants and patrol this section of the Labyrinth's exterior. During the time she watched him, he hadn't so much as spoken to another living thing. Chiara was starting to think that she had been sent on a fool's errand.

She sat up on her vine leaf to check on Hoggle again. There he was, the nasty thing. He had his sprayer out again and he was chasing the fairies that flitted among the flowers, sipping nectar. Chiara shuddered. Hoggle was well known in the small flying community as a menace, and everyone avoided him if they could. Those silly fairies should have been careful not to drink too much while he was around. Chiara herself had been more than unusually careful to stay out of sight while watching him.

She snorted. Watching Hoggle was a waste of her time. So far, she had learned nothing new from him about the runner. It was almost time for another report to her master, yet she had nothing to tell him. Chiara swallowed hard as she considered whether that had been the whole point. Perhaps he had known she would fail. Maybe this time, she should run as far away as possible before he caught and killed her for disobedience.

Her morose thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone approaching. The nyxie fluttered closer to Hoggle, staying in the shadows as much as possible, which was difficult during the warm autumn day. Ordinarily, she would have remained hidden until the sun dipped below the horizon. She quickly learned that if she hoped to gain any information from Hoggle, she would have to endure the daylight. Hoggle did nothing at night but sleep, she had discovered, so she had been forced out of her usual nocturnal habits.

Squinting in the bright light, Chaira looked in the direction of the approaching creature. She heard whoever, or whatever, it was long before Hoggle did. Eventually, even he heard the sound of several pairs of feet approaching. He left off tormenting the local fairy population and grabbed a stout cudgel that he kept with him in case of some sort of enemy attack. Although, as Chiara had also discovered, he was a coward who was far more likely to run away from danger than to face it head on.

The bright light hurt her eyes as she strained to see whatever was coming their way. Chiara gave up trying to watch for the approach of, whatever it was, and focused instead on watching Hoggle. When she saw him relax and head off to meet whatever it was coming their way, she flittered along the top of the wall, following close behind. Chiara was surprised to see that Hoggle greeted the newcomers with joy. During all the time she had been watching him, he hadn't so much as cracked a smile. Yet now, he was smiling happily at a giant rock caller, a tiny fox-terrier knight, and a shaggy dog as if they were long lost friends!

The group chattered away, just outside of her hearing range for the moment. She would have to venture out into the open sun in order to hear what they were saying. Despite her discomfort with the bright light of day, Chaira was about to do just that when the group turned and began walking back toward her. She sighed in relief and followed them, careful to stay out of sight. This was her first chance to gather any information, she couldn't afford to fail. Although, if she were seen now, she wouldn't ever have to worry about the punishment her master might give her. There was a good chance that Hoggle would simply shoot that nasty toxic mist at her troubles would be over, just like the fairies earlier.

"Verily my friend, it is good to see you once more," the diminutive knight said to Hoggle.

"Hoggle Fwiend," agreed the rock caller.

Hoggle nodded. "It's been a while Didymus, Ludo. Come on. I'll make us a pot of tea."

"Oh! Do you have any currant scones?" asked the Fox-terrier. "Ambrosius adores your currant scones!"

Hoggle grunted noncommittally and continued to lead the way. "We can talk more once we get inside. I wanna ask you about-" Hoggle broke off suddenly, causing Chiara to freeze where she was. Hardly daring to breathe, Chiara waited for the inevitable shouts of discovery. After several moments, and no outcry, she began to breathe again, struggling to keep from gasping audibly as she did so. Hoggle looked around carefully before continuing. "You know."

"Truly my friend. Thou art as circumspect as thou art skilled in the kitchen," Didymus complimented Hoggle. Chiara ground her tiny teeth in irritation. The knight was going to drive her crazy. Didymus continued, "We have given our oath unto his Majesty that we shall not discuss the Lady S-"

Hoggle rounded on the small knight, swinging his cudgel as he did. The fox-terrier had no trouble avoiding the swing, hopping nimbly back out of range. "I say," Didymus said, "watch where you swing that!" He curled his lip slightly as he looked at his friend.

"Numbskull! You wanna get dipped in the Bog? Or worse, you want something bad ta happen to-" Again, Hoggle cut himself off before completing his thought.

Chiara was on fire with curiosity. She was sure that whoever they were talking about was the mysterious runner.  _Finally_ , she thought,  _some good information. Perhaps, I won't lose a wing to my master's temper after all!_

When she was sure that they were heading for the little hut that Hoggle maintained in this sector, she left them. Scrambling ahead, she entered the hut well before the three friends even got close. Looking around, she considered the hiding places available. Given that Hoggle would be cooking, she decided against hiding anywhere near the tiny kitchen area of the hut. Several woven baskets set on the floor had some promise, but she didn't want to risk that mutt finding her. Looking up, she spied the perfect hiding place. She zipped into the shadows and sat there, black eyes gleaming in the gloom as she waiting for the trio of friends to arrive.

* * *

Sarah had cried herself out. She lay on the dusty ground, somewhere outside the Labyrinth, and just stared at the sky. She had no idea what she was going to do now. She refused to even consider the obvious solution. The Goblin King could take a swan dive off the nearest bridge, preferably one spanning the Bog of Eternal Stench. She would prefer to scrounge around the edges of the Labyrinth for the foreseeable future, rather than go crawling to him for help.

Lacking the motivation to do anything else at the moment, Sarah continued to lie on her back, idly staring into the clear blue sky above her. She cleared her mind. She very much preferred to keep her mind blank at the moment. There were thoughts lurking in the corners of her mind that threatened to overwhelm her, should she choose to consciously entertain them. Thinking of nothing was a far more preferable choice. So focused was she on corralling her stray thoughts, that she didn't hear gentle splashing sounds coming from the pond.

Suddenly, the rusalka's wet face popped into view above her. Sarah stifled a shriek at the unexpected sight. The water maiden's face disappeared from her view as quickly as it had appeared there. Sarah sat up, wiping off the drops of water than had fallen from the water nymph's dark hair, and turned to face the pond. She found herself staring at the rusalka, who had returned to the water but remained standing among the weeds at the edge. Green eyes stared into green eyes as they looked at each other. Neither spoke for a moment.

"Hello." The rusalka smiled apologetically at Sarah and bobbed a brief curtsey to her.

"Oh please, there is no need to do that," Sarah said. She was uncomfortable with the blatant deference that the rusalka displayed, but curious about the water dwelling girl nonetheless. She looked carefully at her as she stood in the shin deep in the water, her greenish-grey robes floating on the surface. She looked friendly, and Sarah felt that she could use a friend right at that moment.

"But, you're the Lady Sarah!" the rusalka exclaimed, as if that should make the reason for her deferential manner obvious.

Sarah gave a snort of laughter. It was a most unladylike sound. "I'm not a lady."

"Oh but-"

Sarah cut her off before she could say anything more. "I'm just Sarah," she said firmly. Sarah stood, her legs only a little unsteady, and walked over to the pebbled shore of the pond. "What's your name?"

Shyly the rusalka looked down at the water and bobbed yet another curtsey before answering. Sarah nearly fell into the pond, trying to make her stop. Surprised, the rusalka grabbed Sarah's upper arms and stepped closer to the bank. "I'm Naida."

"Hello, Naida. Why did you disappear earlier? You wanted to talk to me, but then you ran away." Sarah sat on the ground next to the water, shifting around to find a comfortable seat amongst the pebbles that littered the beach. When she was seated comfortably, Naida let go and stepped back a pace.

"Well, Jareth was being a jerk," Naida said as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sarah gaped at Naida's casual use of his name before looking around frantically. She expected to see him to appear at any moment.

"Don't worry," laughed Naida. "He's no king of mine. Although, he is the only one to come close to earning my allegiance in years. I'm Unaligned." Naida spoke proudly. When Sarah still looked uneasy, she said, "He won't appear when his name is spoken. It doesn't work that way." The girl put a damp hand on Sarah's arm in a comforting manner. Then, she clambered out of the water and sat on the bank next to Sarah.

"I'm sorry about your father," Naida said suddenly after several moments of awkward silence.

"Thank you. Why did…" Sarah paused to think for a moment about the best question to ask. "What was going on up there?"

"What do you mean?"

"With the shocks. Why were you all shocking me? Giving me power? Jar… the Goblin King said-"

"It's okay. You can use his name. Using his name will help you get over your fear of him," Naida spoke kindly, but Sarah was a little stung by her words.

"I'm not afraid of him!" Sarah glowered at the water nymph next to her.

Naida's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "Oh! Well, yes, I suppose that would be true, considering the way you were yelling at him and everything."

"You saw all of that?" Sarah demanded to know.

She giggled at Sarah. "Of course I did. You would have to be both blind and deaf to miss the way you two were screaming at each other."

Sarah turned bright red. She knew better, of course, than to act the child in front of Jareth. Something about that infuriating man always put her on edge, bringing out the worst in her.

"Frankly, I'm amazed that he let you get away with treating him like that," Naida continued, shaking her head. "Jareth isn't known for his easy temperament. I've never heard of anyone talking to him the way you did and getting away with it."

"Ah, yeaahh," Sarah said, uneasy with the direction this conversation had taken. "He and I have always been at odds. But going back to what happened Aboveground, why were you all tormenting me?"

"We weren't tormenting you on purpose!" Naida cried out. "We only did what was necessary. All of the Unaligned have been watching you for a long time and we saw that it was time. We only did what we had to."

"Unaligned? What are you talking about?" The answers that she was getting were cryptic beyond belief.  _Nothing is as it seems_ , she reminded herself.

Naida looked at her in surprise. Sarah suddenly felt a bit awkward and stupid. She knew very little about the Underground beyond the Labyrinth itself. It was obviously a shock to the rusalka and Sarah almost wanted to apologize for her ignorance.

"The Unaligned are, well, those of us who refused to join the Court when it was formed thousands of years ago. Either personally, although there are precious few of those elders left, or our ancestors."

"Okaaay." Sarah was beginning to feel a bit shell shocked. She had learned more about the Underground in the last few hours than she had in her entire previous visit. She was now struggling with the idea that there might be more to the Underground than she had ever dreamed possible. Sarah wondered how much more there was to this place that she didn't know. She just couldn't wrap her mind around the concept. For the longest time, her understanding of the Underground had included only the Labyrinth, the creatures who lived there, and it's infuriating king. She had never stopped to think that he must have come from somewhere. It had never crossed her mind that there was an entire world here, entire social structures and political movements that she knew nothing about.

Sarah pushed all of this new information aside and seized on something else that Naida had said. "You said that you were all doing what was necessary, but why was it necessary? He said I would die if he took me back home, and told me that only he could help me. Were you all planning on leaving me to die in the mortal realm, or forcing me back down Underground?

Naida made a dismissive gesture with her hand and rolled her eyes. "Don't believe everything that overgrown boy has to say," she told Sarah. "He is  _not_  the only person in the Underground who can help you. Ugh, he's always so dramatic and self centered." Naida continued to grumble for a little while before trailing off.

She turned to grasp Sarah's cold hands in her own and looked at her earnestly. "It was necessary because you are special Sarah."

Sarah had the feeling that there was more to this that the rusalka's words conveyed, but she couldn't for the life of her understand what the water nymph was driving at. "Why, because I beat the Labyrinth?"

"No! Well, yes, you are definitely special for beating the Labyrinth. But the reason you are able to beat the Labyrinth is what makes you so special."

"You're talking in circles Naida!" Sarah exclaimed in exasperation. "Nothing you've said actually tells me anything."

Naida gave her hands a squeeze before releasing them. "You are a custodian, a caretaker, for the Labyrinth."

"Why, because I beat it?"

Naida giggled at her. "No silly, it's in your name."

"My name?" Sarah grabbed a handful of pebbles and began to run them through her hands absently. She stared moodily at the pond for a moment. She was beginning to regret this conversation. It was all cryptic nonsense so far.  _Does no one in the Underground speak plainly?_  she wondered to herself.

"You're a Williams!"

"What's that got to do with it?" Sarah looked at the rusalka in confusion. What in the world did her last name have to do with the Labyrinth.

Naida shook her head and clamped her lips shut. "She told us not to talk to you about it. She said she would explain it to you herself."

"She," said Sarah flatly, "She who?" Sarah put her hands under her and began to push herself up off the ground. This wasn't going well. It looked like she wasn't going to get any clear information. Although she was glad to find out that she needn't show up begging at Jareth's door, she understood very little else of what she had been told.

Naida put a hand out and grabbed Sarah's arm to keep her still. Sarah glared at her. "The Lady Diona," the rusalka answered quickly, removing her hand from Sarah's arm and looking at her apologetically.

"Diona! You mean Miss Edwards?" Sarah felt her mouth pop open in surprise and she left off her attempts to leave. Her sweet older neighbor actually lived in the Underground?  _Impossible!_  Sarah's brain screamed.  _The name must be a coincidence. Right?_

"If you say so," Naida shrugged. "I only know her as Lady Diona."

Sarah frowned and her brows furrowed in thought. "Where can I find her?" she asked. If she could get there, she might finally get some answers to all the questions she now had about what was going on.

"She lives in the Labyrinth," Naida said, pointing off into the distance over the wall.

_Of course she does_ , Sarah thought with a spike of irritation. "Can you show me?" she asked the rusalka as Naida rolled onto her stomach and slipped back into the pond.

Naida shook her head again. "I can't leave my pond for that long."

Sarah felt her heart sink. "So it's not close by?" Sarah wasn't exactly up for a long trek through the Labyrinth. The last six years had taken a toll on her and she doubted whether she'd be able to beat the Labyrinth in her current condition.

"No." Naida propped her elbows on the bank, cupping her hands under her chin as she watched Sarah's face. "Diona made sure you ended up here though, so I could tell you where to go."

"She made sure I ended up here? I thought Jareth was playing games."

"The king?" Naida smiled, a little maliciously, and Sarah was reminded that not all rusalka were as harmless as her new friend seemed to be. "No, it was Diona. He was so surprised when the magic twisted away from him," she remarked with a laugh.

Sarah couldn't help but smile a little herself as she imagined his irritation. "I'll bet."

Naida stopped laughing and looked up at Sarah. "He looked at you strangely though."

"What do you mean?"

The water maiden paused, as though searching for the right words to explain what she meant. "When he first appeared here, he looked torn, like you were both the cause and the balm for some unbearable pain."

"Right." Sarah said sarcastically. That was the last thing she expected from the Goblin King. It was more likely that he had looked at her and wondered what in the world he was supposed to do with her now. Those things he had said during their last meeting, they had only been to slow her down, weren't they?

"It's true!" Naida protested. She grew thoughtful as she watched Sarah face. "I think you hold his soul."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sarah yelped. The conversation had taken a most uncomfortable turn.

* * *

Naida only smiled a secretive smile.  _Perhaps_ , she thought,  _Sarah was far more important than even the Unaligned knew_. She had noticed while watching Sarah and Jareth argue earlier, that each one had avoided saying anything completely unfortunate about the other. There had been no declarations of undying hate, not even on Sarah's side.  _Very very interesting_ , she thought.

The Unaligned had been planning on throwing their lot in with Sarah. There had been talk of making Sarah their Queen, although no definitive plans had been made. There was no doubt that Sarah was a descendant of William the Wise, but now Naida wondered if there wasn't something else at work.

"No," Sarah insisted as she watched the look of introspection come over the face of the rusalka. "Really, What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I'm only a nymph after all, what do I know of these things." Naida shook off her contemplative state and focused back on Sarah. There would be time to consider everything after she completed her task.

Ignoring Sarah's grumbles about being kept in the dark entirely too often, Naida climbed to her feet and grabbed Sarah's hand. Leading her toward the walls of the Labyrinth, she began telling her how to find Diona. "I'll lead you to the nearest door into the Labyrinth but I'll have to leave you there," she said sadly. She wished that she was able to take Sarah where she needed to go. Even if she had been able to leave her pond, Lady Diona had insisted that Sarah had to make her way to the cottage in the Labyrinth on her own. Naida didn't know why, she only knew that it was the way it had to be. "Diona lives in a forest in the southeastern section of the Labyrinth."

"Not the one with the fierys?" Sarah cut in, her face worried. Looking at her, Naida understood her sudden anxiety. She didn't look like she had the physical stamina to deal with the rambunctious fierys.

Naida shook head head to indicate that Sarah wasn't likely to encounter the fiery gang. She understood Sarah's reluctance though, no one really wanted to run into the them. She stopped and looked at the pale, thin girl who had appeared, unconscious, in the Goblin King's arms. She certainly didn't look like she could handle a confrontation, even with a friendly goblin, much less the fiery gang. Naida began to doubt the wisdom of sending her into the Labyrinth on her own.

"Come on Sarah, it's not so bad," the water nymph insisted. Sarah looked at her with profound disappointment on her face but said nothing. "Look, when you go in, turn right and skirt the outer wall for several hours. That will be the easiest and safest route. Be careful not to alert any of the Guardians to your presence though. If a Guardian sees you, then you might end up getting slowed down on your way to Diona's."

"Why? Would one of the Guardian's hurt me or toss me in an oubliette?

Naida shook her head. "No, but he or she will definitely alert the king that you are wandering around in the Labyrinth."

Sarah made a strangled noise in her throat and Naida stopped walking. She turned to face Sarah. "You don't want to be noticed by the king?"

"No!" exclaimed Sarah. "You saw what happened the last time he noticed me." Sarah swayed slightly as she stood next to Naida.

"Hm." Naida didn't comment any further, she just put an arm around Sarah and ushered the already tired woman closer to the door of the Labyrinth that was now visible in the distance. She would have to hurry, she was starting to dry out and her pond was getting further behind her, but Sarah had such a long way still to go today. Again, Naida wished fervently that she could go with Sarah.

"What's a Guardian?" Sarah asked suddenly.

"They look after the borders of the Labyrinth itself and keep intruders from getting in." Naida said, running her free hand through her rapidly drying hair. "There used to be more of them around but their numbers have dwindled over the past ten years or so."

"Is Hoggle a Guardian?"

Naida made a disgusted face. "Yes."

"You don't like Hoggle?" asked Sarah.

Naida made a face. She didn't hate Hoggle, but she didn't really like him either. They'd had… arguments. She knew that Hoggle wasn't the most likeable person in the Underground but she had heard rumors that he and Sarah had gotten along quite well when Sarah ran the Labyrinth. Rumor said that Hoggle had been nearly bogged by the king, for his friendship with the mortal girl.

Naida sighed. "It's not that, it's just, well, it took me ever so long to get him to stop..." the rusalka looked uncomfortable. Sarah looked spread her hands to encourage the nymph to continue. "... to make him stop…  _peeing_ , in my pond!" The rusalka's voice was outraged and her face turned scarlet at the admission.

Sarah couldn't help it. She burst out laughing. Between her guffaws she managed to choke out, "I remember… he was… doing that in a… pond when I met… him!"

Naida made a small moue and stuck her nose in the air in mock indignation over Sarah's reaction. This made Sarah laugh even harder and she had to stop and sit down on the ground to get over her laughing fit. She laughed for so long that Naida wondered if she was going to have some sort of mental break. The rusalka was relieved when Sarah's guffaws finally settled into more sedate giggles.

* * *

Getting control over herself again, Sarah once more stood and began walking with Naida in the direction of the door. Her amusement had taken it's toll though. Sarah's head was beginning to ache and her legs were once again unsteady. She was ravenous, but that wasn't anything she wasn't used to. There were spots dancing in front of her eyes again by the time she and Naida made it to the door.

"Sarah," began Naida. "Maybe you should rest at my pond before trying to find your way through the Labyrinth to Diona's."

"No." Sarah shook head to emphasize her words and immediately regretted it. Her headache increased in intensity. "The sooner I get to Diona's, the sooner I get some answers, and some help. Besides, if he comes back, I don't want to be there."

"Well, do you want something to eat before you go?" Naida reached into a pocket of her greenish grey robes and pulled out a peach. She offered it to Sarah.

Sarah blanched and backed away hurriedly. Turning away, she gagged for a while but managed to avoid throwing up. When she turned to face Naida again, the offending piece of fruit was nowhere in sight but there was a mixture of concern and consternation on the face of her new friend.

"I'm sorry," Sarah apologized. "the last time I was here the Goblin Ki-"

"Will you just say his name!" the rusalka interrupted. "Refusing to say his name is like admitting that he has power over you."

Sarah's eyes widened at Naida's outburst and then narrowed to jade green slits as she considered her words. It was… possible… that Naida was right. Dr. Preston had said much the same thing when he pressed her to use his title. Sarah had never mentioned to the good doctor that she actually knew the name of the supposedly imaginary Goblin King. He had pushed her very hard to get her to even use his title out loud. All the while, claiming that vocalizing her fears would help her overcome them. Perhaps she should have taken more of Dr. Preston's advice years ago. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "The last time I was here,  _Jareth_  gave me a peach and it had… a bad effect, on me," she ended lamely by way of explanation.

Naida smiled at her, obviously amused at the way she had voiced the name of the Goblin King. Sarah was more irritated about saying it out loud than fearful. She didn't know how to feel about this man who waltzed in and out of her life, blithely reordering it to suit himself each time.

"Do you want something else?" Naida asked with a worried frown.

"No Naida, that's very kind of you but I really don't want anything to eat. Can you just give me the rest of the directions to get to Diona's house?" Sarah didn't want to worry her friend any more by her reaction to food. She also wasn't sure what would happen if she accidentally ate more Faery food.  _Better to be safe than sorry_ , she reasoned.

"Sure, like I said, skirt the edge of the Labyrinth for a few hours to avoid getting lost in the more convoluted sections of the maze. Eventually you will begin to see tree branches hanging over the walls to your left. Take the next opening you can find on that side."

Sarah nodded.

"When you get into the forest itself, look for a stream that runs roughly west to east. When you find it, follow it upstream. It will run through a very large clearing in the woods. Diona's house is just inside the tree line on the far side of the clearing."

"Thank you." Sarah reached out to hug her companion tightly.

"Be careful. Although the path I've told you about should be safe, there is no telling what will be wandering around in the Labyrinth. Whatever you do, don't wander away from the stream once you find it."

"I won't." Sarah promised.

Naida grabbed Sarah's shoulders and looked her in the face. "I mean it. Things are not as peaceful in the Underground as they were the last time you were here. You could find yourself in a lot more trouble very easily. The Labyrinth is no longer what it was, or so I've been told."

Realizing that Naida really worried about her, Sarah gave her as much assurance as she could that she would be careful. Then she turned to the doors, and tried to open them. They didn't budge. With a sigh, Sarah remembered to say the right words.

"How do I get into the Labyrinth?" She said wryly to the doors. Naida giggled as the large wooden doors groaned ponderously open in front of them.

Sarah turned back to the rusalka. "I'll come and visit you if I can," she promised.

Naida nodded and raised her hand in a gesture of farewell. She watched as Sarah turned and stumbled down the right hand corridor on the great maze. The doors swung closed with a bang and Naida was left outside, wringing her hands in anxiety for Sarah Williams, the descendant of the original Lord Protector of the Labyrinth. Lady Sarah was far weaker than she had been led to believe. She had serious misgivings about turning Sarah loose in the Labyrinth, on her own, in her current condition. Jareth hadn't been joking when he had said that he was far from the worst thing to be found in the Underground.

Making a decision, Naida turned and began walking east, away from her pond. She knew she needed to get back to her pond soon, but she needed to find someone who could look after Sarah even more. She had to find Hoggle.

* * *

When Hoggle and his friends entered the hut, Chiara was well hidden behind some rags on a shelf above one of the windows. She had only been hidden for a few minutes when the three friends and the dog entered the hut. It was dark and out of the way, a perfect hiding place for the nyxie and one where she wasn't likely to be noticed by the little knight's steed. Ambrosius, she thought it's name was.

Hoggle went immediately to the fireplace and put the kettle over the coals that glowed a ruddy red in the dim light of the hut. While he bustled about the tiny kitchen, preparing a fine repast for his friends, they settled themselves around the table. Didymus kept up a running stream of inconsequential chatter as he waited for Hoggle to finish his preparations. Chiara listened for several minutes, and then tuned him out. He really was insufferably noble. It made her teeth ache. She amused herself in the meantime, by imagining the things she could do if she weren't bound in servitude to her master.

Her attention was once more drawn to the trio of friends when Hoggle brought a tray to the table and sat. After serving tea they began to speak together in hushed tones. Chiara's sharp ears had no trouble hearing them from her safe perch in the shadows above the window.

"When was the last time our Lady called upon you, friend Hoggle?" Sir Didymus asked the other Guardian.

"It's been a long time. Sarah hasn't called on me in more 'n three years," Hoggle replied sadly.

"Miss Sawah," said Ludo, shaking his gigantic head in sadness.

"As do I, my brother," Didymus told him, sipping his tea and helping himself to his third scone. "Dost thou think that Milady Sarah is in some sort of trouble?"

"If she is than I bet that rat, Jareth, caused it," Hoggle said darkly.

"Hoggle!" admonished the knight. "How canst thou speak of our sovereign king in such a manner? Truly, his Majesty has been sorely disappointed by his loss."

Hoggle snorted, "Yeah. Sarah won all right. Took her brother home and left Jareth to nurse his wounded pride. I'll bet he's been just waitin' to get back at her." Hoggle scowled at the teapot as though it were Jareth himself. Chiara was amazed to see such a look on the generally cowardly Guardians face. Everyone knew Hoggle was afraid of Jareth. He also had a reputation for looking out for his own skin regardless of anyone else.  _Who was this Sarah_ , she wondered,  _that she commanded such loyalty from Jareth's subjects?_

Didymus was about to speak again when there was a knock at the door. All three friends froze for a moment. Chiara remained in her hiding place. The knock sounded again and Hoggle rose and crossed the packed earthen floor of the hut to answer the door.

"What d'ya want?" he grumbled at whoever was outside.

A female voice answered him. "Please Hoggle, I need you to do something."

Hoggle snorted and nearly slammed the door. Didymus was instantly beside him, scolding him for his behavior. "Really friend Hoggle, to leave a fair maiden outside, begging for your help, is most discourteous of you," Didymus admonished.

"This 'un trouble," said Hoggle bluntly. "Bossy little thing, and Unaligned to boot! I've had more trouble with this one..." he pointed his finger at the rusalka who entered the hut.

"Fwiend?" asked Ludo, squinting at the water nymph.

She looked around at the three of them. "Please, you have to help, it's about Sarah."

Startled, all three friends stepped back in astonishment. Hoggle gaped like a fish. Ludo just sat and stared and Didymus looked flustered, but interested. Chiara wasn't sure that Ludo fully understood what was going on.

Chiara pricked up her ears at the name. This was new information, and new information was a good thing. She carefully leaned a little further out of her hiding place, making sure that her body stayed in the shadows as she listened.

Of the three, Sir Didymus collected his wits the fastest. "What is your name, fair water maiden?" he asked the rusalka. Although his tone was courteous and gentle, his hand held his customary staff in a tight grip.

Naida bobbed a respectful curtsey to the little knight before answering. "I'm Naida. Are you Sir Didymus? The Guardian of the Bog?"

"Indeed I am, gentle Naida," he replied.

Hoggle regained his powers of speech and immediately launched into questioning the poor rusalka. Naida was looking much the worse for wear after her lengthy walk away from water. "How d'ya know about Sarah? What's an unaligned girl got to do with Lady Sarah anyway?"

"Gently," said Didymus as he ushered their guest to a seat at the table. "Dost thou truly know the Lady Sarah?" Hoggle glared at his friend and took up watch at the window next to the door, muttering about traps and ambushes.

Naida looked around at the three of them with pleading eyes. "Please, Sarah is back in the Underground, but she's not well."

"What did ya do to her?" yelled Hoggle, rounding from his watch at the window and rushing across the room.

Naida sighed at his outburst and rolled her eyes. "I didn't hurt her. She was wished away by her stepmother."

"Yeah right," Hoggle growled. "Sarah ain't no kid. Adults can't be wished away like that. Wanna try again or are ya gonna tell us what's really goin' on?"

"Look Hoggle," Naida said hotly, "I only know what I saw, she was wished away and now she's in the Labyrinth looking for a way to get to Diona's house. She's been sick or something and she isn't well. She won't last long on her own in the Labyrinth. Not this time."

"Sawah sick!" Ludo wailed and heaved himself to his feet. He was about to lumber out the door when Didymus stopped him.

"Wait my brother, we must know more of these strange happenings before we sally forth to rescue our Lady! For as all the world knows, I will fight anyone, anywh-"

Ludo halted and placed an enormous hand on Sir Didymus who immediately recollected himself. Ludo shifted from foot to foot uneasily as Didymus turned to Naida again. "If the Lady Sarah was indeed wished away, why is she not with his Majesty?" he inquired politely.

Chiara nearly groaned. There was no end to the little furball's manners!

Surprisingly, the water maiden blushed. Chiara watched with interest as she wrung her hands and spoke again, in a voice so low it was nearly a whisper. "They had an argument, outside the Labyrinth. Sarah wouldn't go with him."

Hoggle burst into loud guffaws at this. "That's Sarah all right," he wheezed between shouts of laughter. "Good girl! Jareth's a rat and he don't deserve her none!"

Didymus narrowed his eyes at Hoggle's outburst and Naida's mouth popped open. This was obviously a side of Hoggle that the rusalka had never seen before. Chiara began to wonder if maybe everyone was wrong about Hoggle. Niada's mouth twitched upwards into a smile in spite of her obvious discomfort. Chiara would be willing to bet that she would have to find a pond close by and go for a soak before she made her way back to wherever it was she called home. She had really been out of the water for far too long.

Hoggle took a deep breath and turned to the others. "She knows Sarah all right. Only Sarah would be stubborn enough ta tell Jareth ta get lost after she'd been wished away to 'im. I dunno know how this happened or what's wrong with Sarah, but she clearly needs us."

"Indeed!" applauded Didymus. "Come comrades, we must sally forth and rescue the fair maiden once more!"

"Wait!" called Naida. "You can't tell Jareth!"

"Didn't plan on it," chortled Hoggle. "Defied him once before for Sarah, and lived ta tell the tale. I'll be able ta find her without his help, no problem!"

Naida sagged against her seat in relief. Chiara could see her drying skin starting to turn pink. "Hoggle, is there a…  _clean_  pond, around here?"

Hoggle scowled at her. "Gonna start that again?"

"Please Hoggle? Sarah is my friend. I walked all this way, away from my pond, to get help for her."

"Oh fine," he muttered. "Go back the way you came. The pond by the cherry tree should be clean… enough."

Naida grimaced but rose immediately and darted out the door. Chiara could hear her, heading in the direction of the pond. Chiara waited until the three friends had left the hut, nearly running in their haste to assist this Sarah, and then she also exited the little shanty.

Chaira decided not to follow the friends as they searched for Sarah. She knew where the girl was headed. Maybe if she got the news to her master fast enough, he would be able to catch her there. Chiara hoped that once he had this Sarah, whoever she was, that he would let her go. Hoping as she had not dared to hope since the day she was ensnared by her master, Chiara flew off to find him.


	6. Three Invocations for the Fates

**Disclaimer** \- As usual, I'd like to take this opportunity to remind everyone that I own no part of the original movie, nor do I make a profit through my storytelling. Just having a little fun with the characters.

A/N - Sorry, I'm always a day late and dollar short. Real life interfered this week, both for me and for my beta. Hope you enjoy this anyway.

Thanks to my behind the scenes reader: Enchanted Peach Dreams, and my lovely beta: ladyofshalott19. Also a big thanks to my husband for his editing skills, even though he will never see this shout out...

**Warning:**   **This chapter contains adult themes**  in the form of a small lemon. Nothing too over the top but I promised trigger warnings on all chapters with adult content, so here ya go!

* * *

As Jareth was pouring whisky and telling Ethan the story of Sarah's last visit to the Labyrinth, Rhiannon and her husband walked down the corridor that led away from the council chamber.

"It may not have been so wise to tell them that Jareth's kingdom was a mess," Rhiannon chided her husband.

"Yes," he admitted. "I was hoping for a far different reaction." He took a moment to observe his wife. As they moved down the hallway, her face was serene, yet her eyes were worried. Her dark hair, plaited and piled elegantly on top of her head, was just beginning to escape the confines of the many pins her ladies maid had used to keep it in place. Cieran had the sudden urge to reach out and steal a few hairpins, just so he could watch her tresses cascade down around her.

Rhainnon sighed, pulling his attention away from her hair. "Yes, well, the cat's out of the bag now, isn't it? I only hope that Jareth has gotten himself together again by the time the Council gets around to actually looking into the matter."

They turned several corners in silence. Although he had not been on speaking terms with his his son since their disagreement, Ciernan had been kept abreast of the situation by his wife and others that he trusted. Neither spoke again until they reached their own private chambers.

Once in the lavish sitting room, Rhiannon rang for a servant. When one arrived, she requested a private meal and then approached her husband. "Why don't you change out of that thing?" she suggested, fingering the gold embroidered collar of his tunic with a frown on her face. "Why in the world would you wear something like this anyway? You look like a wood elf."

Cieran laughed. "I had hoped that if I looked slightly more 'civilized' I would have an easier time dealing with Diermuid. Do you think it worked?"

Rhiannon laughed as well. "I doubt it. Knowing him, he probably thought it was a slight."

"I can't win dealing with that man," he complained as they moved into the bedroom adjoining the sitting room. He made his way to his closet and began rummaging in it for something else to wear. "Either he's blocking some policy I wish to enact, or he's subtly stirring up trouble." He tossed several shirts behind him on the floor before choosing a plain, loose fitting, grey poets shirt.

"Do you suspect him of planning something specific?" she asked curiously as she drifted over to her filigreed dressing table and sat down on the low stool that rested in front of it. She removed the black velvet ribbon, with it's diamond pendant that nestled snugly in the hollow of her throat, before moving on to her earrings.

"No, not really. It's just a general feeling that he's plotting," Cieran answered moving to stand behind her. "I always feel as though he is plotting something."

Rhainnon began to remove the hairpins. "You know he's not."

"You're right dear…." Cieran sighed as he watched her dark hair come down. " As usual." He picked up a hairbrush, handing it to her.

"Jareth isn't going to like it if we allow the council to choose a wife for him," she said. She pinned him with her gaze in the mirror. He winced inwardly at the truth of his wife's comment. Rhiannon quickly ran the brush through her hair. Then, she gathered the smooth strands and began to plait them into one long braid.

With practiced ease, Cieran began to unlace the back of his wife's gown. His fingers moved automatically and his eyes never left the mirror while he watched her finish with her hair. He said, "I don't doubt it, but I also don't really care what he thinks at the moment."

She look at him disapprovingly as he finished unlacing the gown and started on her corset. "You are both so ridiculously stubborn!" she cried in frustration. Rolling her eyes at him as he finished his task and leered at her in the mirror.

"You knew that when you married me," he teased, prudently stepping away from her sharp elbows as he said it.

She stood with a huff and made her way to her own closet, depositing the elegant gown on a chair before disappearing inside. "Be serious!" she called from the confines of her large closet. "Jareth is going to be very angry. Rightfully so. This is a very important decision, and he should be allowed to make it on his own!"

As she finished speaking she emerged from her closet. She was comfortably dressed in a pair of breeches, with a loose, flowing tunic that was covered by a soft leather vest. Her braid swung behind her as she approached her husband, her stocking feet making no sound on the polished wooden floor of their bedroom.

"Perhaps you should encourage him to choose someone," Cieran suggested as they drifted back out into the sitting room. He crossed the room to gaze out the large, picture window that overlooked the ocean. He doubted that his son would take his advice, even if he deigned to offer it right now.

"With Diermuid and Shaylee actively looking for a wife for him?" Rhiannon asked incredulously. "Here I thought that you wanted to avoid more trouble with the King of the Woodland Realm."

Cieran turned from his contemplation of the view to see his wife in the process of curing up in her favorite green chair by the fireplace. "Oh blast Diermuid!" he exclaimed.

The fire had not yet been lit. So, he crossed the room and added some wood to the fireplace before drawing in his magic to produce a flame. She smiled at him when he was done.

"Thank you dear."

"I think Diermuid was only trying to rattle me by implying that he would find someone quickly. He'll take his sweet time searching for someone. Thank the stars he doesn't have any daughters, or we would have been fending off betrothal offers for years now," he said.

"That's not going to stop him from finding someone else who will give him an advantage," she replied seriously. "I think he will move quickly on this now that he has the majority of the Council behind him. It's in his interest to resolve this quickly. He will be able to reap the benefits sooner, and the realms will be secure for another generation." The air was getting chilly now that the sun was going down. So Rhiannon reached into a basket next to her chair and drew out a lap blanket, which she placed over herself as she spoke.

"Exactly." Cieran leaned forward in his chair and looked at his wife seriously. "That boy does have a duty to marry and produce an heir. He must secure the succession. If anything should happen to him before then…" He allowed his voice to trail off before turning his head to gaze into the fire.

"I know," Rhiannon said, her normally sweet voice filled with sorrow.

They were each startled out of their contemplation of the flames by a knock on the door. "Enter," they commanded in unison. With a smile for his wife, Ceran stood up to maneuver a small table over to the fire between the chairs.

Two servants entered bearing covered trays. Theodus trailed in behind them. "Is there anything else you will be needing this evening, Your Majesty?" He waited politely as the servants set the trays on the table.

Cieran reclaimed his seat by the fire and picked up his napkin from the table where his meal awaited his attention. He said, "No, Theodas. That will be all for the day. The Council will be reconvening tomorrow so I will need you to attend to anything else that might come up while we are busy."

"Absolutely, Your Majesty."

Cieran sighed and glanced at his wife. She had covered her mouth with her napkin to stifle the giggles that threatened to spill out. "Theodas, I believe I have asked you to use my name in private," he grumbled at his personal assistant.

Theodas looked unperturbed as he replied, "It wouldn't be proper, Your Majesty."

Rhiannon let out a snort of laughter as Cieran sighed again. Waving his hand in resignation, he said, "That will be all, Theodas."

Theodas bowed to his king as one of the servants filled the wine goblets. "Good night, Your Majesties," Theodas said. He then bowed low to Rhiannon and left the royal apartments. The servant, having finished pouring the wine, placed the decanter on the table and left with a bow and a murmur about returning to pick up the trays later. The room was filled only with the clinking sound of silverware and the crackle of the fire for several minutes as the royal couple turned their attention to their food.

Rhiannon was the first to break the silence. "I am not comfortable with forcing Jareth into any sort of arranged marriage. He hasn't been brought up with that expectation, especially considering you and I chose each other," she said.

Cieran stopped chewing and looked across the table at his wife. It was true that they had an unusual bond. Most marriages in the Court were arranged affairs, meant more to garner political advantage than to gratify any notion of love. He had never before considered the implications of that fact. He and Rhiannon had actually fallen in love. While she certainly hadn't been a commoner, coming from a noble Fae household in the Dark Elven Holdings, she wouldn't have been the first choice for High Queen had the Council been allowed to choose his bride. At the time, his own status as Crown Prince had been more than enough to silence any objections that her parents might have thought to make to the marriage. Luckily, his father had not needed to seek any political advantages,and his hold over the council had been strong enough to silence any objections from that quarter as well. So, High King Althalos had allowed the wishes of his son to prevail in the matter.

Cieran swallowed and picked up his wine glass, using the action as a screen to allow himself to take the time to think of a suitable reply. While he sympathized with the point his wife made, he wasn't sure that Jareth could afford the same luxury that they had enjoyed.

Before he could say anything, however, he noticed that her demeanor became thoughtful, and he wondered what she could be thinking about as he settled himself deeper into his chair, goblet in hand. He didn't have to wait long. "I don't think this is the time to broach the subject with him anyway."

"Why?" he asked in a curt tone, his irritation at his son bubbling to the surface. "He needs to be made to face up to his responsibilities, all of them." He watched the emotions play across Rhiannon's face, first frustration, then anger, then sorrow, and finally, determination. He would never tire of this mercurial woman who shared his life.

"You know that he has been a wonderful Goblin King!" she pointed out, picking up her own goblet and taking a sip of the dry, white wine they were sharing.

Cieran fumed, "Until he let it all go up in flames because of a little infatuation!" He leaned forward and plunked his empty goblet back on the table. Rising from his chair, he made his way over to the sideboard and poured himself a healthy splash of bourbon. As irritation overtook him, he raised the glass to his lips, and tossed the fine dwarven vintage back like a cheap shot. The burn as it made it's way to his stomach did little to help him regain his composure.

Rhiannon shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "I don't think it's that simple," she told him, watching Cieran pour himself another glass.

He stared at his wife as if she had grown as extra head. "What do you mean?" He returned to the table, glass in hand.

"I think he lost his heart to that girl," Rhiannon told him quietly.

"The runner?" he asked in surprise. "He had a mere thirteen hours with the girl. She was nothing more than a runner. How much interaction could they possibly have had?" He took a swallow from his glass, managing not to drink it down so quickly this time. Andris would have his head if he saw him drinking his best bourbon in that fashion. He released a stifled coughed before croaking out, "I think you are seeing more than there is to see."

Rhiannon shook her head, a knowing look in her eyes. "And if they were to meet again?" she suggested.

"Out of the question," he answered vehemently. Rhiannon narrowed her eyes at him as he finished his drink. He stole a glance at the sideboard, wishing that he had brought the bottle to the table.

"Have I mistakenly brought Diermuid to our chambers?" she asked in an icy tone. She rose from her seat and approached the sideboard that he was eyeing mournfully.

"You know that's not what I meant," he said lifting his hands up in a gesture of peace.

"So what is the problem, if her humanity isn't the issue?" she asked. She grabbed a glass for herself and poured a shot. Then, she brought the bottle over and poured him another before placing the bottle on the table and returning to her seat.

Grateful for a chance to explain his comment, he picked up his fork to take another bite of his abandoned meal. "We know nothing about her," he mumbled around his fork. "And Jareth hasn't exactly been... circumspect... in his dealings with women in the past." Cieran swallowed and began pushing his food around on his plate as he considered some of the women who's names had been linked with that of his son in the past. "I've seen some of the women that he chooses to spend time with. None of them have been the type that I would like to welcome into my family as a daughter." He looked up to gauge Rhiannon's reaction to what he said.

Rhiannon sighed. "That's true, but…" Cieran waited for his wife to finish her thought, but she didn't. She just sat there, looking thoughtfully at the fire.

"But…" he prompted.

She sighed and then looked him square in the eye. "I've actually seen this girl. She seemed lovely and sweet," she blurted out quickly.

His eyebrows shot to his hairline. "You've seen her?"

"I... tracked her down... after my visit to Jareth." Rhiannon looked evasively down at her plate.

"And…"

Rhiannon's lips thinned, but she did not look up from her plate. She continued to push the remnants of her meal around in silence for a moment. "She's nothing like the others."

"So, you've spoken to her?" he asked in surprise. If his wife had thought is worth tracking the girl down, then there must be actually be some substance behind the rumors. He had been surprised when she broached the subject in the council chamber today.

"No."

"Well, then how can you say, from only a look, that she's nothing like the others?" he asked in confusion.

Rhiannon finally looked up from her plate again. "I just think that we should trust our son on this," she stated seriously.

"Hrrmm," he grumbled. "We'll see. It's not as though the girl will be returning to the Underground. I see no reason that Jareth shouldn't move on."

Rhiannon opened her mouth to speak, her eyes determined as she watched him from across the table. He cut her off before she could say anything.

"Please, Rhiannon. We must be practical. Jareth must marry and produce an heir." He rose and circled the table until he stood beside his wife's chair. He reached down and pulled her up into his embrace. "Not everyone can be so lucky as we were, my dear. The situation in the realms is far more precarious than it was during our youth."

Rhianon turned away. She said nothing, but the look on her face told him that she remained unconvinced. Cieran sighed. With any luck, the council would take its time in selecting a bride for his son. Cieran thought about Jareth and winced inwardly. His wife was right, his son would not take kindly to the Council's decision. It would take the intercession of the Fates themselves to get Jareth to agree to any match they might propose.

* * *

Diermuid strode into his private chambers in the palace of the High King and Queen. His rooms were located at the tail end of the guest corridors, adjacent to the gardens. When he and Mirima were initially assigned these rooms, he had been inclined to complain. He had felt that it was a sign of disrespect to him that he was relegated to the fringes. Diermuid quickly realized the usefulness of being so close to an outside entrance. His complaints had stopped rather abruptly after that.

His wife had gone off to visit with Twylithia- or some such nonsense. To be honest, he really didn't pay much attention to what his wife was up to these days. He was far more interested in his political life than his married one. Not that he believed Mirima would cheat on him. No, she was far too principled for such an indiscretion. Besides, he had her watched constantly, and none of his people had ever reported the slightest indiscretion on the part of the queen. So long as his wife was discreet, he didn't particularly care what she did.

Diermuid sat at the desk that was conveniently located by the tall window across from the door. He conjured a crystal and dropped in onto the desktop, where it shattered. Instantly, the previously bare desk was scattered with papers. The fading light of the sunset bathed him in its red glow as he surveyed the desk and grunted in satisfaction. Diermuid sat back in the comfortable chair and folded his hands behind his head while he thought about the Council meeting.

He grinned wolfishly. Overall, things had gone... well. He could hardly believe his luck. Cieran certainly tripped up this time, he thought with glee. Diermuid had been pushing the Council for years to force the Crown Prince into marriage. He was nearly giddy with the idea that he would be able to control who would ascend the throne as the next High Queen. He dismissed Shaylee's participation in the search with hardly a thought. Although he had given the Council the impression that they would join forces to find a suitable bride, he would be the one to actually choose. Shaylee would do nothing more than make a few suggestions before growing bored with the entire thing and moving on to something else.

The situation in the Goblin Kingdom, while potentially serious, was nothing that Cieran and Rhiannon wouldn't be able to handle. Diermuid was willing to bet the whole of next year's tax revenue that they were already in the process of cleaning up their son's mess. If he found that Jareth failed to take care of it as necessary, well, Diermuid would take a hand himself, even if he had to level a formal complaint against Jareth to ensure the job got done.

The boy had certainly been circumspect, whatever it was he was doing there. Diermuid's people hadn't been able to get anything on why Jareth suddenly changed his well established behavior six years ago. There had been many times over the past several years when Diermuid had been ready to scream in frustration over the lack of information on what was going on in the Goblin Kingdom. To him, information was power. The more of it he had, the more potential he had to become a powerful force in the Underground. He unclasped his hands and rose from his position to pace agitatedly around the room as a thought occurred to him.

_That runner_ , he thought.

He was not at all happy to have learned about the mortal runner. His usually attractive mouth curled into a sneer of disgust at the thought. How could a mortal girl possibly have beaten the Labyrinth? He remembered his own attempts to solve the Labyrinth and grew even more incredulous. It was impossible! He stopped pacing as he considered the possibility that Cieran was pulling something over on him. Could his claim be some sort of preparation for another equal rights policy the High King wanted to push? It was certainly possible. If it was, then there had been quite a lot of backroom dealing going on that his network of informants hadn't been aware of. Cieran and Andris had probably cooked it up between themselves, possibly even with the support of some of the other council members.

Diermuid growled in irritation. Yes, Cieran had some sort of agenda, and this ridiculous claim of his was nothing more than a ploy. He returned to his abandoned seat to consider how he should handle the situation. If Cieran wanted to wheel and deal in secret, well, two could play at that game. First, he would need more information.

Conjuring another crystal, he spoke into it briefly and then dismissed it. He penned a short note, folded it an intricate manner, and affixed his seal to the paper. When he finished, he sat back to think and wait. In short order, there was a knock at the door, as a servant answered the summons. He asked that refreshments be brought and then beckoned the servant closer to his desk.

"Have this sent to The Crazy Seagull Inn," he demanded, handing the sealed note to the servant. He mentally snorted in disgust at having to say the ridiculous name of the tavern but kept his face smooth. There was no point in alarming the servant for a moment, no matter how much he disliked repeating that asinine name. Such an action would be sure to be remembered, and he would rather not leave such a memorable impression in the minds of the servants here in Fialis. He knew that Cieran didn't have anything close to his own network informants, but the High King was bound to have ways of gathering information. "There is a patron staying there by the name of Leofrick. Have this placed into his hands and none other, mind." He fixed the servant with a commanding look as the girl took the note and curtseyed respectfully.

"Yes, Your Majesty," she answered, turning to head out the door.

He held up a hand to stall her. "And be so kind as to have Sybbyl bring the tray to me," he requested.

The girl ducked her head in another quick curtsey and left the room without a word. With a sigh, Diermuid began going through the piles of reports that lay on the desk. There was a great deal of information here to be sorted.

Nearly an hour later, he had managed to get about halfway through the pile of reports before another knock sounded at the door to his chambers. Continuing to read a report on the results of an information gathering mission in the Troll Protectorates, he absently called out, "Enter!"

He didn't look up as a slender human dressed in a servants gown entered the room, carrying a tray. She dipped a quick curtsey in front of the desk before setting her burden down on top of it and stepping back. She then stood silently, waiting for him to take notice of her. As the silence stretched out, she began to twist her slender hands nervously in her apron. Her hazel eyes looked troubled as she fought to remain still in his presence. Finally, Diermuid sighed and placed the report back on his desk. Looking up, he beckoned for the girl to come closer.

"Well, what do you have to report?" he asked, his lip curling slightly as he beheld the nervous human standing before him.

"The High King and Queen met privately with King Andris last night."

"And the subject of this meeting?" he inquired, leaning back in his chair.

Sybbyl looked uncomfortable. "I overheard one of the housemaids commenting on the amount of laughter that was coming from the library where they met," she said with trepidation.

He looked severely at the mousy housemaid. "But you don't have any idea what they actually talked about, do you girl?" he asked in an irritated tone.

"No, my Lord," the girl whispered, hanging her head.

Diermuid rolled his eyes and decided to try another question. "Have you heard anything more about the status of the relationship between Cieran and Jareth?"

"I don't believe there has been any contact since the last time you asked, my Lord." She didn't look up as she spoke.

Diermuid leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk. Dropping his head into his hands, he rubbed his forehead in exasperation. "Remind me again why I'm paying you, girl," he said wearily.

"To gather information," she whispered, tears starting to form in her eyes.

"And yet, you consistently bring me nothing but tidbits that I already know!" he said, raising his voice only slightly. It was enough to set the tears rolling down the girl's cheeks, however. "Perhaps I should discontinue your service to me, hmm? How would your mother and all those little brothers and sisters of yours manage then?"

"Please, my Lord!" she gasped in panic. "I- I can do better. Please… please. My ma can't manage without the money I send her… not since my da died. She depends on me!"

He released a sigh of frustration before grimacing at the annoying display the serving girl was putting on. "Then you had better start making it worth my while to be paying you, wench, or else your family will find itself out on the streets." He waved his hand at the door as another knock sounded. "Answer that and then go."

"Remember my generosity," he called to the girl as she left, wiping her cheeks dry on her apron.

He turned to the elf who had entered the room when the girl opened the door. He was a thoroughly disreputable looking scoundrel. His lanky brown hair and pointed nose gave him the look of a bird of prey. The look was accentuated by his eyes, which were so light a brown as to look almost tan. An odd color that unnerved even Diermuid at times. "I trust you had no problems making your way here, Leofrick?" he asked.

Leofrick was dressed in nondescript brown breeches, brown knee high boots, and a rather tight green tunic, cinched at the waist by a serviceable black belt. His dark grey cloak was old and worn, the clasp deliberately blackened so as not to reflect light. He raised an eyebrow and executed a gracefully mocking bow. "Of course not, " he murmured. "I am the best after all."

"Hmm," Diermuid grunted in reply. "I have need of the best right now. I have a new mission for you."

Leofrick's eyes widened and he cocked his head in interest. "How might I be of service?" he inquired.

Diermuid chewed his lower lip thoughtfully before replying. "I have need of some information from the Goblin Kingdom," he finally said.

The rogue across the desk gave him a calculating look. "That's a dangerous mission," he remarked in a carefully neutral voice.

Diermuid winced inwardly. He should have known that he wouldn't be able to pull this off without paying heavily for it. He fixed the spy for hire with a cold glare. "The usual fee," he stated.

Leofrick snorted derisively. "I don't think so. I'm not some sniveling servant girl you can browbeat into feeding you information for pennies," he sneered at Diermuid, who colored slightly in anger. "I want triple, in advance, or I walk. The usual fee wouldn't even come close to covering the risks associated with being caught as a spy in the Goblin Kingdom."

"That's outrageous!" Diermuid exclaimed hotly. "Practically highway robbery! I won't pay triple, and certainly not in advance." He eyed the elf again, trying to decide how far he could push this discussion before Leofrick walked away. The man wasn't kidding when he said he was the best. He was always in high demand and would have no trouble finding other work if he turned down this commission. "I'll pay you double," he offered. "Half now, half if you return with usable intel."

"I don't think so," Leofrick said flatly. "The last person who was caught spying was summarily flogged and then tossed into that infernal Bog by General Ethan. I have no desire to cross his path, nor Jareth's for that matter." The other elf bowed. "I will make inquiries into whether any of my cohorts will take your offer, but I doubt you'll have much luck," he said as he turned to leave.

"All right, all right," Diermuid said placatingly. He stood and crossed his arms. This was going to bite his purse, hard.  _However_ , he reasoned, _it would be more than worth it if Leofrick was successful._  "I'll give you triple, but only two-thirds up front. The rest when you return, provided you are successful, of course.

Diermuid watched the man as he considered the offer. If Leofrick didn't accept, he would have to find someone else. And anyone else would very likely botch the job. He needed the best; he just didn't want to pay so much for it. He was relieved when the other elf nodded in acceptance.

"Very well. What kind of information do you want?" Leofrick asked, stepping closer to the desk.

Deirmuid gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk as he resumed his seat. Leofrick raised his eyebrows at the polite gesture but declined the offer. Standing calmly before the Wood Elven King, he crossed his arms over his chest,waiting for the slender monarch to get to the point.

"You've heard the rumors about what has been going on in the Goblin Kingdom for the past several years." It wasn't a question, but the shady elf nodded tersely all the same. "Well, today I came across some information that would explain it," Diermuid said, relishing the look of surprise that came across the face of his companion.

"Really?"

Diermuid grimaced slightly as he spoke, "A runner apparently beat the Labyrinth, six years ago, and Jareth has been hiding it from everyone. I want to know why."

Leofrick rubbed a hand over his mouth and looked thoughtful. "Interesting," he murmured.

Diermuid only grunted noncommittally and pressed on. "My sources tell me it was a mortal, a girl, who goes by the name of Sarah," he ground out, his irritation evident at the unpalatable thought. "I want to know everything you can dig up about her, about how she beat the Labyrinth, and why Jareth chose to hide this event from the rest of the Underground."

His companion looked at him narrowly. "Surely Jareth is simply nursing a bruised ego," he stated, watching the reaction of the Wood Elven King closely. Diermuid quickly schooled his expression, cursing himself for allowing his reactions to get the better of him. He wasn't the only one out there looking to buy information, and Leofrick was an independent agent. He would work for anyone, provided the price was right. Diermuid didn't want to give the mercenary spy anything to use as leverage against him.

It was Leofrick's turn to grunt noncommittally. Diermuid said, "There is another possibility. Jareth may have... an attachment... to this mortal." It was very difficult for him to hide his disgust as he relayed this information to his newest hire. "If that is the case, I want to know about it."

A dark chuckle escaped the lips of the elf standing across the desk from him. "Now you want to know the mind of the Crown Prince? You don't have the money for that, Diermuid."

The monarch bristled at the casual use of his given name but kept silent.  _I need this man_ , he reminded himself. Through clenched teeth he said, "A bonus then. I'll pay you another triple payment for any information you can bring me regarding the Goblin King's relationship to this… girl."

Leofrick was already shaking his head before Diermuid had even finished speaking. "No deal," he stated flatly. "As much as I'd like to accept the money," he added, "you don't get to be the best by being foolhardy. I'll take on the rest of the job, but I won't be caught prying into the private life of the Crown Prince."

Diermuid clenched his fists in frustration as his mind whirled. He needed this information. There had to be a way to convince Leofrick to take the entire commission. Everyone had a price after all. He just had to find, and meet, this man's. He watched, considering, as the hardened spy waited cooley for his reply. He noted the proud bearing of the man, a stark contrast with his rather weather beaten cloak and nondescript clothing. An idea popped into his head, but he pushed it away. It was absurd.

"If that's all, I'd best be on my way then. The sooner I leave, the sooner you get your information." Leofrick inclined his head and started toward the door. "Have payment sent to the Crazy 'Gull within the hour," he shot over his shoulder.

"Wait!" Diermuid called out, vacating his seat and coming around the desk. The other elf stopped and turned toward him questioningly. "A position in my court," Diermuid offered, his heart beating quicker. "A title, and an estate. Your own independent income! If you can get me the information I seek."

Leofrick gaped at him and Diermuid felt a sense of satisfaction. He had been right. He finally found the necessary inducement. _I'll have a hell of a time meeting this price,_  he thought,  _but IF he manages it, the reward should be worth the inconvenience. Plus, my generosity will have bought me his services for as long as I should care to make use of them._  He smiled coldly at the spy and waited for a reply.

Leofrick narrowed his eyes. Diermuid watched as he mulled it over for a moment, before eventually saying, "All right, I'll take on the full mission." The elf moved too fast for Diermuid to react as he drew a small knife out of his sleeve. Leofrick pressed it against the throat of the king, who began to tremble. "But I swear, if you go back on your word, I will ensure that you will see, firsthand, the extent of my skills. You think me a spy for hire, easily bought and manipulated, but I have other skills - ones that you have never utilized. It would not be wise to push me into displaying them." He gave Diermuid a cold, predatory smile as he stepped back, removing the blade from his companion's throat and sliding it back into its hidden sheath.

"Send the money to the 'Gull, Diermuid," he said pleasantly. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you."

Diermuid stood as if turned to stone as he watched the elf leave his rooms. When his heart finally settled back into its normal rhythm, he summoned a servant to dispatch the promised money to the Crazy Seagull Inn. After the servant took his leave, Diermuid sank into a chair by the fire and stared into the flickering flames. "Fates preserve me if I fail," he said to himself.

When Mirima returned to their rooms several hours later, she found her husband alone in the darkened room, still staring at the last embers of that fire.

* * *

When the Council meeting ended, Shaylee made her way quickly through the corridors to her own suite of rooms. The elegant train of her gown trailed behind her as she hurried along. She had an appointment that she didn't want to be late for.

She dismissed all thoughts of the Council meeting from her mind as she entered her suite. Her chief advisor, Lord Gethin, rose from the chair he had been seated in and bowed as she approached him. Shaylee sighed in appreciation as she looked at him. His thick black hair was tied back by a leather thong. His athletic build and piercing blue eyes made many women swoon. His chiseled jaw and unlined face made it hard to believe he had a daughter only several hundred years younger than she was. She smiled at him as he rose from his bow.

"How was the meeting, my dear?" he asked with a seductive smile.

"Tedious," the Fairy Queen replied, moving closer and placing her hand on his arm. She lowered her eyelids and peered up at him through her lashes.

Gethin chuckled as he placed his other hand over the one she had placed on his arm. Gently, he led her to a nearby couch and sat, pulling her down across his lap as he did so. The giddy queen giggled as settled herself in his grip. He's so handsome, she thought as she reached out to slide her hand along his face. He allowed the gesture for a moment before capturing her hand in his and bringing it to his mouth.

"What was discussed?" he asked casually before placing a nipping kiss on her palm.

Sucking in a breath at the sensation, she replied, "The raids, refugees... it was all rather dull."

He released her hand and slid his own up her arm and over her shoulder. She shuddered slightly as his fingers began tracing the arc of her breasts as they rose out of her low cut gown.

"What else?" he pressed. His eyes locked onto hers as he began untying the lacing on her gown with his free hand.

Shaylee's heart rate increased as, one by one, he released the laces, giving him access to the lacing of her corset. She rolled her eyes. "Apparently, Jareth has gotten into some sort of altercation with his father, over some girl who ran his Labyrinth," she told him a little breathlessly.

His hands, which had been untying her stays as deftly as he had untied the lacing of her gown, stilled at this. "Really?" he asked in surprise. Ignoring her pout at interruption of his activities, he asked, "What made this girl such a bone of contention?"

Shaylee slid her arms out of the sagging sleeves of her gown and draped them around his neck. He absently reached up and removed them. "Cieran suggested that Jareth had been rather enamored of her," she said. Smiling at him, she stood and allowed her gown to drop to the floor. She noted the way his eyes remained distant, despite her efforts to lock his attention on her body. She decided that she needed to make her intentions clearer. She shimmied out of her undergarments, but left her underskirt and half laced corset in place.

His eyes moved to the pile of clothing on the floor that was growing rapidly. He smiled back at her but asked, "What happened to the girl?"

Shaylee was getting rather irritated with his interest in this unimportant detail. She walked away from the couch that he was sitting on and sauntered over to the window in her room. She loved the view. Rhiannon had been nice enough to ensure that she had an ocean view here in Fialis. Her own palace in Illetalos was only a few hours ride from the sea. She often rode down to the shore spend the day, but nothing compared to being able to fall asleep to the sound of the surf every night.

_Maybe I should build a summer palace down by the ocean,_  she thought as she gazed out of the window. It would be nice to have a place to escape the hustle and bustle in her capitol.  _Illetalos gets so hot in the summertime, it would be nice to have a place where I could go to escape the city,_  she thought.

"Shaylee," Gethin said in irritation. When she didn't answer, he tried again, "Shaylee!"

"Hmm?" she hummed idly, not turning from the window.

She found herself grabbed from behind and pulled away from the window. Shaylee gasped, pulled from her thoughts as Gethin wrapped a strong arm around her waist. He pulled her back against him and groped her roughly for a moment before repeating the question once again. "I said, what happened to the girl?"

"What does it matter?" she asked in annoyance.

"It matters," he said pulling her so tight against him that she gasped painfully, "because I want to know."

"Ouch! Let me go!" she demanded. He released her and she stormed away from him, proceeding to the center of the room. She turned to glare at him as he stood by the window with his arms crossed, waiting for her to answer.

"Ugh," she stormed, "you can be so incredibly annoying! Cieran said the girl returned Aboveground. I got tired of the whole thing and suggested that it was high time Jareth got married. Diermuid agreed with me. End of story."

The look of surprise and delight on his face would have been gratifying, if she wasn't already so annoyed with him. As it was, she felt her anger drop back down to the level of petulance as he walked toward her, a huge smile on his face.

"This is wonderful!" he enthused.

"What is?" she asked sharply. He was just too happy with this bit of news.

"Well, I assume you volunteered your services in helping Diermuid track down suitable candidates for the next High Queen," he told her.

The Fairy Queen looked at him oddly. Why in the world would he care so much about the marital status of the Goblin King? Of course, the Realms needed to see the succession secure for another generation, but it really wasn't like him to care much about that.

Suddenly, a thought came to her as she looked at him, aghast at what she thought he was suggesting. "No," she said with finality.

He looked at her questioningly, and she shook her head. "I have no desire to be High Queen," she insisted.

For a moment, he was stunned, and then he began to laugh. He was laughing at her! Her eyes narrowed. How dare he laugh! She should march right over there and slap the silly grin right off his face. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared daggers at him until he stopped laughing.

"No, no, angel," Gethin said placatingly. "I wasn't thinking of you at all."

Her eyes widened for a moment, only to narrow back into slits the next. "Why not?" she demanded.

"Because," he said, sidling up next to her. "I can't possibly give you up to the Goblin King." His warm voice washed over her ear as he leaned in to her. She sighed and turned, presenting her back and the half untied corset to him. He immediately began unlacing the thing again. "I was thinking that my daughter would be the very best candidate," he whispered in her ear.

"Why Belinda?" she asked in confusion as the final stay came loose and the corset fell away.

"Because it will get her off my hands, and leave all my time for you," he whispered persuasively as his wandering hands caught her nipples and squeezed slightly. She gasped and leaned back against him, grinding her hips back into his groin. He pushed her away and turned her to face him. He looked her in the eyes and spoke in a commanding voice, "You'll bring me with you when you meet Diermuid, and we will explain to him that my daughter is the only possible choice."

Shaylee blinked at him several times and then smiled. "Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want," she purred, lightly shoving him back across the room to the couch. She felt his legs hit the couch and she pushed him down. Hiking up her underskirt, she straddled his lap and leaned in to kiss him.

* * *

Although his body was busy with other things, Gethin's mind was working furiously on the plan that Shaylee had unexpectedly given him the opportunity to put into motion. He couldn't believe his luck. He had thought that it would be at least a couple more centuries before he was able to convince the Council to accept his daughter as the best candidate for Jareth's wife. To have this opportunity so much sooner than he anticpated was beyond his wildest dreams.

He gripped her hips hard enough to bruise as Shaylee writhed on top of him. Keeping her happy was becoming a chore, but as long as she was useful to him, he would continue to do it. Fates save me from spoiled females, he thought as the Fairy Queen rode him. At least Belinda could be counted on to play her part, no matter what her private inclinations were. His teeth flashed in a feral grin as he thought of all that was in store once his plans came to fruition. It would be very satisfying to realize his dreams.  _Very satisfying indeed._


	7. Hunted

**Disclaimer -** I don't own anything from the movie, just borrowing the characters to have some fun!

 

* * *

"So, you just left her out there?" Ethan looked at his friend in horror. They were sitting in a comfortable study in the Castle Beyond the Goblin City. The well-lit room was lined with bookshelves, and a fire crackled in the hearth on the far wall, holding the late autumn chill at bay. "What were you thinking Jareth?"

Jareth grimaced slightly but held up his hands in an effort to soothe his friend before he slumped back into the couch cushions. Jareth had discarded the vest he had worn shortly after they entered the room. His white shirt was rumpled and hung open at the neck. "I never intended to leave her out there, she just…" Jareth trailed off as he thought about how Sarah both infuriated and charmed him at the same time. He couldn't explain it to himself; so he sure as hell couldn't explain it to Ethan.

"She just... what? Pissed you off?" Ethan asked, leaning forward in his armchair and resting his well toned arms on his knees. The tight tunic he wore stretched uncomfortably across the back of his shoulders as he did so. He would have to see a tailor soon. Abruptly, he stood and stalked over to the heavy wooden table placed next to the mantle.

Jareth shrugged cynically. Ethan turned away from him and emptied the final drops from the bottle of whiskey they had opened earlier that afternoon before returning to his seat. By now, it was almost dark. They had long ago ordered and eaten their evening meal as they worked their way through the story of Sarah's last visit and subsequent return. The remains of the meal still littered the table. When a servant had tried to come and collect it, Jareth had rudely ordered the poor girl off. No one had dared to approach the door of the study since.

Despite the fact that the bottle of whiskey was empty, Ethan was remarkably unintoxicated. Jareth, on the other hand, was highly inebriated. Ethan had watched as Jareth downed glass after glass of the strong amber alcohol while he himself only sipped at his. Ethan had been incredulous as, for the first time, he listened to Jareth tell him the truth about what occurred six years ago. He might have thought that his longtime friend was pulling his leg, if it hadn't been for the way Jareth was knocking back the alcohol. The look that came into Jareth's eyes every now and then when he mentioned Sarah was unlike anything he had ever seen on the face of his longtime friend. Ethan had never seen Jareth like this, and it worried him.

"I didn't mean to leave her out there," Jareth repeated as Ethan set the last of the whiskey on the low table between them. "I tried to bring her directly here, but something… happened with the magic. I couldn't make it work."

"What do you mean you couldn't make the magic work?" Ethan demanded, seizing upon the most practical question he could ask at the moment. Ethan doubted that Jareth, even drunk as he was, would take kindly to prying questions about his feelings for the girl.

"I mean it didn't work!" Jareth exclaimed in frustration, sitting upright and spreading his hands to emphasize the point. The skin of both palms bore shiny, raised scars, a memento of Jareth's first attempt to utilize free magic. His dark leather gloves lay on the couch, tossed carelessly on cushions next to the Goblin King. They were a perfect example of Jareth's inclination to keep things hidden, even when it was unnecessary. Jareth could have worn his scars as a badge of honor, but instead, he chose to hide them. Ethan was used to seeing his best friend without gloves, but Jareth rarely removed them in front of anyone else, despite the fact that the entire kingdom knew that his palms were scarred. The Command General was slightly miffed that his king and friend had kept him in the dark about this Sarah, for over six years.

_But then,_  Ethan reasoned to himself,  _I wasn't here to see what happened during her run. I_ was  _there when he got the scars._

_Jareth had been so excited. He pulled Ethan along behind him as they made their way out to the furthest reaches of the royal gardens in Fialis. Ethan could remember hearing the cries of the gulls and the soothing sound of the surf as he followed the Crown Prince._

_When they were as far away from the palace as they could get without leaving the grounds, Jareth stopped and turned to him. "I think I've figured it out," the excited ten year old said._

_Ethan had raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. He was unhappy about skipping sword training. Today was the day they were supposed to progress to wooden practice swords, rather than just swinging sticks around in endless patterns meant to build muscle memory. His reply to his friend was surly. "Figured out what?"_

" _Using free magic!" Jareth had exclaimed excitedly._

_Ethan rolled his eyes, "You do know that no one has been able to do that in thousands of years," he said sarcastically. "What makes you so special?" His mocking tone caused Jareth to scowl as he stood tall, drawing himself up to his full height- all five feet of it._

" _I'm the Crown Prince," he said haughtily. "I am special!"_

" _Yeah, yeah," said Ethan, dismissing Jareth's words with a wave of his hand. "I've heard all of this before. Get on with it already. We're missing practice!"_

_Jareth narrowed his eyes at his friend and shook his head. Jareth held his hands out, palm up, in front of himself. He scowled at his hands, a look of intense concentration on his face as he tried to draw on the free magic that they had been taught floated through the air around them._

_At first, Ethan didn't see anything. "Come on," he said. "Nothing's going to happen, let's just go. We're already in trouble for missing the start of practice. If we go now, we might get off with only a few laps around the training yard."_

_Jareth grunted but didn't move. With a sigh, Ethan decided to wait. Showing up late on his own would inevitably get him into more trouble than showing up late with the Crown Prince. He began to fidget again as the moments ticked by and nothing happened._

_Suddenly, there was a flash of light that emanated from Jareth's cupped hands. Ethan blinked and shaded his eyes as Jareth yelled triumphantly, "See I tol-"_

_His cry of triumph was cut off by a scream of pain as the magic, barely under control, flared again. This time the pulse was sustained and Jareth continued screaming as the magic raged against his tenuous control._

" _Jareth!" Ethan screamed. He stood, shading his eyes, just outside the edge of the magic. He wanted to go to his friend, but he was too afraid to cross into the light that marked the sphere of magic._

_The light began to die back as he stood there, unwilling to leave but afraid to get closer. As the light faded, the screaming died down to whimpers and groans of pain. Ethan was sure that Jareth would be dead or at least unconscious by that blast of magical energy, but he wasn't. To his surprise he could see his friend, tears streaming down his cheeks, his face twisted in agony. He was still standing._

_In his bloodied hands, he held a clear crystal that pulsed with free magic._

_The next few minutes had been a blur, as adults who could sense the magic began appearing from all over the palace. There was widespread consternation, and even a little fear, as they beheld the sight of the Crown Prince, proudly holding up a crystal of free magic. Free magic that was under control by an individual for the first time in living memory._

_When he could finally be coaxed to release the magic, his mother had whisked him off to the royal physician. Ethan remembered hearing his own parents discussing the matter later that night. He overheard his father say to his mother, "He was fortunate, he only got his hands burned, he's damn lucky he wasn't destroyed!"_

_The Crown Prince had walked away from the experience with scarred palms, but complete control over free magic from that day on._

"It kept twisting away from me," Jareth said, tossing an arm up as though waving off an overly solicitous offer of help. Jareth's statement brought Ethan back to the present. With a mental sigh, Ethan tried to let go of his resentment about not being told sooner. This was just how Jareth was. He had long ago accepted Jareth's idiosyncrasies. This was just another thing about the enigmatic Crown Price that one either had to accept or ignore.

"Does it work now?" Ethan asked him, trying to get Jareth to focus seriously on the oddness of the situation.

"Yes," Jareth said shortly, before adding, "Come to think of it, it worked when I transported back here." He looked thoughtful.

"When was the last time it didn't work?" Ethan pressed, trying to make sense of the situation.

Jareth paused to think before replying, "It's always worked until today. I tried to transport Sarah three times, and I wasn't able to control it."

"But, as soon as you stopped trying to transport the girl it worked fine?"

Jareth scowled as he tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling as he thought about the implications of this lapse. "Yes." Ethan was glad that Jareth had finally moved beyond self pity over the rejection of the girl and started to think about the problem rationally.

Ethan furrowed his brows at he thought his way through the problem. "Did you try to use your personal magic?"

"No." Jareth continued to stare at the ceiling. "I was getting ready to, but she woke up, remember?" He sighed and leaned forward to grab the whisky glass that Ethan had set on the table between them. "Do you mind?" he asked. Ethan waved a hand at him, indicating that he was welcome to the glass.

Ethan said nothing, watching Jareth toss off the last of the whiskey he had just poured. He was beginning to have some serious reservations about this girl. Jareth was one of only two people who could reliably use free magic in thousands of years; it was awfully convenient that he would suddenly be unable to do so while in her company. Come to think if it, it was also very strange that the girl would refuse Jareth. Ethan had been friends with Jareth nearly his entire life, and he had never once seen him fail to charm a female.

Jareth broke Ethan's train of thought, saying, "It was strange. I could feel the magic; I could even access it, but everytime I tried to apply it to transport, it twisted off away from me."

"Perhaps we should ask-" Ethan began, only to be cut off by Jareth.

"Ask who? There isn't anyone. I'm the closest thing in the realms to an expert on free magic, at least inside the Court. There has only been myself and one other who has been able to use free magic since the Court was formed." Jareth stood once more and walked over to the table, depositing the glass on the tray that was waiting to be taken back to the kitchens. "There isn't anybody to ask," he reiterated.

"Perhaps..." Ethan said slowly. "Perhaps it has something to do with the girl herself?"

Jareth looked at him for a long moment, thinking that notion over. "No, I don't think so," he finally said as he flopped back down on the couch once more.

Ethan was silent for a moment, weighing the pro's and con's of what he wanted to say. He decided instead to make a suggestion. "You need to go and get the girl. I'll wait here. Use personal magic and I'll be here to take over when you return." There was no way Ethan was going to leave Jareth alone with that girl in a weakened condition. The entire situation was just too suspicious.

The withering glare that Jareth shot Ethan could have stripped paint from the walls. "Absolutely not. Haven't you been listening to anything I've said to you? She doesn't want anything to do with me!"

"So?" Ethan shot back.

"So?" Jareth mimicked. His voice was mocking, although Ethan wasn't sure if Jareth was mocking him, or if he mocked himself. "So, I refuse to go chasing after her. She knows where I am, should she desire my company."

"That doesn't mean that you should leave her out there!" he exclaimed. Ethan couldn't believe that Jareth was so willing to abandon anyone to the tender mercies of the things that roamed the Labyrinth at night. What was it about this girl?

Jareth glowered at him, but made no reply. Ethan sighed, "Can you at least use a crystal to check on her?"

Jareth eyes grew angry again. "No."

"Really? You won't even check on her? She could be hurt," he said, appealing to something other than Jareth's pride.

A look of anguish crossed Jareth's face at Ethan's words, but that was quickly replaced by a stoic mask. Ethan knew, that if it hadn't been for the alcohol, he wouldn't have seen even that much. It was one of the reasons why he had been careful not to drink too much, while at the same time, plying his friend with most of a bottle of whisky. Ethan had suspected he would need his wits about him as Jareth told this story. He had learned long ago that the best way to figure his friend out, was to catch these little slips that told him about Jareth's mood and thoughts. The Goblin King threw himself off the couch, startling Ethan. He stalked to a window and stared out for several moments before answering.

"It's not that I won't," he growled in explanation. "It's that I can't. I can't see Sarah through the crystals anymore."

"What do you mean, you can't?" asked Ethan incredulously. What about this girl turned his friend into a completely different person? The Jareth he knew would have been doing his utmost to charm the girl, including rushing out there to play the knight in shining armor for her. Ethan had seen Jareth go to great lengths to bring a woman to his bed but never had he seen him take this tactic, whatever it was.

"I mean I can't. It doesn't work." Jareth swung around from the window to face his friend. "I haven't been able to do that for the last six years," he said, almost sadly. All traces of his earlier anger were gone.

"But, you could see her as she ran the Labyrinth?" Ethan asked, hoping to clarify.

"Yes," answered Jareth. "It wasn't until she… went home, that I realized I couldn't see her magically anymore."

"Do you, know why?" Ethan asked hesitantly.

"I have an idea," Jareth said, exhaling wearily as he leaned casually against the mantle. Ethan remained sprawled in his chair. Jareth's eyes took on a faraway look, darkening until even the blue one was heavily shadowed.

Ethan said nothing, waiting for his friend to continue. When Jareth didn't say anything more he decided to give him a little nudge. "Feel like sharing your theory?" He asked snarkily. To his surprise, Jareth didn't take the bait.

"You have no power over me…" Jareth whispered.

"What?" Ethan's face showed his confusion. That statement made no sense. He watched as Jareth pulled himself out of whatever memory he was lost in.

With his mismatched eyes once more settled on Ethan, he said, "It's the last thing Sarah said to me that day. She told me that I didn't have any power over her." He shook his head with a half smile. "I think that's why I haven't been able to see her. I had hoped, now that she is back in the Underground, that the restriction would lift, but as I found earlier…"

"It hasn't," Ethan finished for him. "This doesn't make any sense. Do you have any idea why she would be able to place such a restriction on you? It seems  _odd_  that a random mortal girl would have that kind of sway here in the Underground."

Jareth sighed and returned to the couch once again. "Sarah isn't just any mortal girl. During our last encounter, I felt a... power, emanating from her. There's something about her that's… different."

Ethan felt alarm bells going off again. This was all too convenient. A mortal girl just happens to catch Jareth's interest and then is able to blithely walk away from one of the most powerful Fae in the Underground?  _She did more than just walk away,_  he reminded himself.  _She was actually able to prevent him from seeing her with his magic!_

"Jareth," he said leaning forward in the winged armchair. "Have you considered that perhaps this girl isn't what she seems to be?"

Jareth looked sharply at his chief military officer. The feel of the room suddenly changed, as though it had been charged with electricity. "What do you mean?" he asked. His tone was dangerous, and Ethan knew he would have to tread lightly to avoid angering his sovereign.

"Where could she have gotten such power?" he asked, stalling for time, while he tried to figure out a way to tell Jareth what he was thinking.

Jareth looked thoughtful and the atmosphere in the room relaxed again. He shifted around on the couch and rested a booted ankle over his knee. He extended an arm along the low back of the couch and said, "It's possible that the book had something to do with it. I don't know how she got hold of the book, but it's a very powerful artifact. It shouldn't even have been out of the vault."

"Could it have been a copy?" murmured Ethan, still wrestling with how to tell Jareth he needed to be careful around the girl.

Jareth's brows drew together as he thought about that for a moment. "No," he finally answered. "The first thing I did once I realized what she had was check the vault; the book wasn't there."

"Well, she couldn't have been given the power by another Fae. It would have killed her by now," Ethan pointed out practically.

"Indeed." Jareth's reply was slightly chilling, and Ethan stiffened at the tone.

Steeling himself, Ethan decided to just go for it. If it pissed Jareth off, well, too bad. There was always work in Andris' kingdom for a warrior, if Jareth dismissed him. "Have you considered the possibility that the girl is a trap?"

"A trap?" Jareth asked darkly. Ethan hurried on.

"This could be some sort of plot. We know there are enemies out there. She could be here to get close to you, or to distract you, or to weaken you somehow." He said it in a rush, eager to get his thoughts out in the open now that he had started. No matter what Jareth thought of his theories, it was his duty to bring up all the possibilities, even if they angered the king.

For a moment, Jareth sat absolutely still. Ethan couldn't decide whether or not to be worried. Then Jareth chuckled. "You give him too much credit, my friend. This plot you imagine is far too convoluted, even for  _him_."

His relief over Jareth's lack of anger was overshadowed by his fear that his friend wasn't taking his warning as seriously as he felt it should be. "But-"

"No." Jareth stated, his eyes blazed with fury as they stared into Ethan's own. "If you knew Sarah, you wouldn't even consider this."

Ethan ground his teeth but inclined his head in apology. No matter what Jareth thought, Ethan was determined not to be persuaded out of his opinion. He would get to the bottom of this. He had to know more about this girl. He was determined to do his job, not just as Jareth's chief military officer but also as his friend. He couldn't let this Sarah get her hooks any deeper into Jareth until he was sure that she wasn't part of some plot.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Ethan asked, "Do you mind if I check up on her? Just to ensure her safety of course."

Jareth looked at him suspiciously. Ethan spread his hands in a gesture of peace, hoping to persuade his king and friend that he meant no harm. Jareth considered the request for several moments. Ethan could almost see the wheels turning in his mind as his pride fought with his other feelings. Finally, his other feelings won and Jareth gave in with a heavy sigh. "Fine. I left her on the southwestern edge of the Labyrinth, near the pond where that Unaligned rusalka has been living for the last few years. I'll send you there, but you're going to have to make your own way back."

Ethan stood and prepared for Jareth to transport him. Jareth leaned close and grinned wickedly. "Oh, and Ethan…"

"Yes?"

"Keep your hands OFF the girl," Jareth said before tossing a crystal at him.

* * *

Ethan blinked as the scene changed around him. Instead of the fire-lit study with its sturdy furniture and comfortable fire, he found himself standing in the dark. He conjured a crystal, tinged green with his magic, to light the area around him.

He was standing in the same cleared area that Jareth and Sarah appeared in earlier, but there was no sign of the girl anywhere. Ethan began to search for her, spiraling outward as he went. If she were hurt or even just sleeping, he didn't want to miss her in the dark.

He continued until he came to the pond. He knew the rusalka here wasn't dangerous, Jareth wouldn't have let her stay if she was. So, he crouched down and dangled a hand in the water. She didn't appear.

He intensified the light coming from the crystal in his other hand until he could see the entire pond in its glow. Luckily, it wasn't a large pond. He was already going to be sorry for the magical expenditure when it came time to transport back to the castle.

A small figure, dressed in grey-green robes, walked into the light that just barely reached the other side of the pond. The rusalka's brown hair was nearly dry, and the hem of her damp robe was covered in dust. Ethan looked at her in wonder. He had never known a rusalka to willingly walk away from her bit of water before.

"What do you want?" the water nymph asked shortly, narrowing her green eyes. She stepped into the water, sighing as she submerged herself. A moment later, she popped back to the surface in the middle of the pond, her eyes locked on his, waiting for an answer. The robes that she had been wearing had fallen away, leaving her in a far more revealing garment.

"I'm looking for someone," he told her, trying his best to avert his eyes from the large expanse of skin her current clothing laid bare to his eyes. She now wore little more than a chemise, and Ethan felt his face burn slightly at the realization. "Have you seen a young woman, a mortal one, around here?"

Naida cocked her head at the Fae. "What makes you think you'll find such a person here, Command General?"

"You know who I am?" he asked in surprise.

The nymph swirled her arms under the water, drawing his eyes downward once again. She laughed, a silvery chuckle, as he jerked his eyes away once more. "Of course I do. Everyone knows who you are, Lord Ethan."

Always used to thinking of Jareth as the one everyone knew, Ethan grew flustered. "Well, have you seen a young woman?" he demanded, a little more forcefully than he should have.

The girl in the water laughed. "You won't find Sarah here; she's entered the Labyrinth again."

Ethan stood from his crouch and began to pace, ignoring the tingling in his legs caused by the cramped position he had been keeping them in. He glanced over at the rusalka, wondering if she knew anything else about the girl. She watched him calmly from the water.

"Where is she going?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at the rusalka. She seemed awfully calm on the surface, yet there was a tension in the way she held herself that told Ethan that she knew something.

The rusalka made no reply; she just shrugged. "It's late. I think I would like it if you left now," she stated.

Ethan scowled, and considered her request. He knew she had more information that she wasn't sharing, but he had no wish to antagonize a rusalka, even one that was considered benign. With a last look at the rusalka, Ethan retreated back to the clearing he initially appeared in. He sat down on the pile of rocks that Jareth had leaned against so casually earlier in the day to think about the situation. He couldn't very well go searching through the Labyrinth for the girl at night. If the Labyrinth could be dangerous during the day, it was even more so at night. Despite his status as Command General of Jareth's armies, there was still the possibility that he would run into something he couldn't handle. There were things in the Labyrinth that answered to no one, save possibly the king.

_Perhaps, I should return tomorrow and question the rusalka further_ , he thought. He doubted that she would give him any more information than she already had. The Unaligned weren't exactly known for being helpful just because members of the Court asked them to. He reluctantly set that idea aside and began to consider other ways to gather more information about Sarah.

He could try Hoggle, or better yet, Sir Didymus. Ethan smiled; Didymus would probably be most helpful actually. Unfortunately, any further information gathering would have to wait until tomorrow. He had just enough magical energy left to get himself back to his bedroom in the Castle Beyond the Goblin City. Making a mental note to call on Didymus soon, Ethan stood, conjured another green tinged crystal, and disappeared.

* * *

Sarah had been walking for hours. The pounding of her head felt like it increased with every step she took. The sun was just beginning to go down when she decided that she had been following the edge of the Labyrinth for long enough.

She grimaced as she began to run her left hand along the inner wall, searching for one of those hidden openings that she knew was there. After walking for several hundred yards, her fingers caught on a jagged brick causing her to pull her hand back with a small cry. Blood dripped down her fingers.  _Good thing I don't faint at the sight of blood_ , she thought, digging in the pocket of her coat for the tissues she had stuffed in them. Was it really only this morning that she had done that? It seemed like days ago now. Wrapping the tissues around her bleeding fingers, like bandages, Sarah continued on, being more careful where she put her hands. She wanted to sit down and rest, but she most certainly did not want to end up in the Labyrinth, alone, after dark.

Eventually, she found an opening. She hesitated, despite the threat of oncoming night. Sarah leaned against the wall and looked up at the branches she could see sticking up above the inner wall of the Labyrinth. Naida said the Labyrinth was more dangerous now. Sarah wondered exactly what she meant by that. Did her friend simply mean the run down state she had found it to be in, or was there a darker meaning behind the warning? What had happened to this place? It was very different from the Labyrinth she remembered. It was darker and almost felt sinister. However, it also felt almost… dead. She hadn't seen any sign of life in the entire time she had been walking along the corridor. She shivered again and was reminded of the rapidly approaching darkness. Taking a deep breath, Sarah plunged through the opening, heading deeper into the Labyrinth.

This section of the Labyrinth seemed fairly straightforward to Sarah, despite its condition. Some of the walls had begun to crumble and Sarah found herself forced to skirt around, and occasionally climb over, piles of rubble strewn across the passageways. The destruction was worse here than along the edge, and she wondered what the Goblin City looked like now. Climbing up on a pile of rubble, Sarah endeavored to see above the tops of the walls that surrounded her. She hoped to get some indication of the state of the rest of the Labyrinth. If the destruction continued to get worse as one went in, then she wouldn't be surprised to see the Goblin City razed to the ground. She could see nothing past the looming trees of the forest, and nothing before the trees but the maze she was working her way through. Giving up, Sarah climbed down off the pile of rubble and continued her journey. Thankfully, she was able to quickly find her way through the relatively few passages between her and the forest. Sarah had expected that she would need to solve some sort of puzzle or outwit some tricky entity to gain entry to the forest, but that turned out not to be the case, at least not anymore.

The wrought silver gate that once stood at the threshold between the stone maze and the forest was standing wide open. It was badly tarnished and twisted on its hinges. The edge of the gate, where the lock had once been, was crumpled and broken. Seeing it in such a state brought back the full force of Naida's warning once again. Sarah wondered what sort of creature would be able to twist and crush a metal gate like that. She shuddered and stepped through haltingly, hoping that whatever had done the damage was nowhere nearby.

As she stepped through the gate, Sarah sidled sideways and kept her back against the stone wall. Crumbling or not, it was comforting to have her back against the stone. She looked around and, seeing nothing dangerous, released the breath that she had been holding. The area between the disintegrating wall and the thick forest consisted of a thin strip of cleared land. Various grasses grew to knee height and often gave way to dirt and bare rock. Seeing nothing of interest near the wall, Sarah turned her attention to the forest itself. She took a few steps away from the stone, her sensible black flats scuffing over the dirt. The forest looked dark, but not exactly foreboding. As she took her first steps into the cathedral-like twilight of the still forest, she strained her ears to catch any sound. She was hoping to hear the sound of running water, which would indicate the stream Naida had told her about, but Sarah was also keenly aware that she could be in danger. She heard nothing but the gentle breeze rustling through the brilliant orange and scarlet leaves overhead.

Sarah walked deeper into the forest, careful to keep her path perpendicular to the tumbling stone walls she was leaving behind. It was far darker under the trees than it was out in the open. The fading sunlight was unable to penetrate the still dense canopy above. Sarah shivered and pulled the collar of her coat up around her neck. She had better hurry, or she was likely to freeze. She picked up the pace, despite her exhaustion.

Suddenly, she saw a flash of movement off to her left. Spinning in that direction, she peered through the gloom, trying to determine what had moved. Although the forest was largely clear of undergrowth, the area where she had noticed movement was a dense thicket of bushes. As Sarah started to turn away, she saw another flash of movement in the bushes. Caught unaware, she took a few steps closer to the thicket before stopping.  _Don't be stupid, Sarah_ , she chided herself,  _you have no idea what's in there. Things aren't always what they seem, remember?_  She strained her eyes and thought she could make out a face in amongst the branches that loomed in front of her. She was about to take another small step closer when the branches rattled.

"Hel-hello?" Sarah stuttered. She was shivering again, but not from the cold. Images of the twisted gate flickered through her mind as she stood there.

There was no answer and no movement.

Sarah took a few more halting steps closer. She was sure she could see a face now- a human looking face- staring out from the bushes. It was obviously male, with a full beard and bushy, brownish-red hair on his head. "Are you alright?" she asked leaning down slightly to peer at the face in the bushes.

It made no reply, save to grin devilishly.

Sarah gasped in horror as the grin revealed three rows of terrifying, razor sharp teeth. With a gasp, Sarah propelled herself backwards, only to catch her foot on an exposed root,crashing to the ground painfully. The thing in the bushes let out a trumpeting cry of triumph as it leaped at her, landing a mere few feet away.

Sarah's mind raced, trying to place the strange creature that was now stalking her as she regained her footing and backed away. The entire thing was covered in the same reddish-brown hair that she had noticed on it's head. While the face was human, the rest of the creature had the body of a lion. Most terrifying was the tail. It was covered in a hard shell, like a carapace, and was held high off the ground, arcing over the creatures back. The tip of the tail ended in a bulbous lump that culminated in a wicked looking stinger. Sarah began to breathe hard. She didn't know what this thing was, but it clearly wasn't friendly.

With a terrified scream, Sarah whirled and ran. It was pure luck that found her running in the direction she had been traveling before. All rational thought deserted her and she ran blindly, not thinking about the directions Naida had given her several hours ago. Her only thought was to escape. With an irritated roar, the creature followed, almost lazily, demonstrating that it had no trouble keeping up with the fleeing woman.

Now in a state of utter panic, Sarah ran, looking for anything that could help her as she fled. She dodged back and forth amongst the trees, hoping to avoid the stinger that the creature brandished as it followed. Glancing back over her shoulder, Sarah found it, loping easily behind her. It's grin widened as it saw her terrified face, and it raised it's stinger. Sarah quickly whipped back around and threw herself to the right. The creature growled as its stinger missed her, hitting the tree a few feet to her left and embedding itself several inches into the trunk. Not waiting to see if it would be able to free itself, Sarah took off once again. The beast let out a loud howl of rage when it saw her run. The sound was like the blast of a trumpet, one played horribly off key. Thrashing wildly to disengage from the tree, it tore up the forest floor in its anger and frustration.

Sarah ran as hard as she could. Her scant stores of energy were nearly exhausted, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to run much longer when she heard the sound of water burbling over some rocks just ahead. With a sob or relief, Sarah saw the stream come into view and she veered to the right to follow it's path. Glancing behind, she was further relieved that nothing seemed to be following her, at least for the moment. It appeared that she had managed to shake her pursuer.

Slowing slightly as she followed the stream, she tried to catch her breath. He legs shook, and her head swam. The headache, which was forgotten while she ran from that creature, came back suddenly, roaring into life, and making Sarah wonder if her head could possibly explode. The pain was so sudden and intense that Sarah dropped to her hands and knees beside the happily gurgling stream. Her vision became blurred, and she gripped her head in her hands. Her stomach twisted. Sarah turned her head away from the running water as she heaved violently. The bitter bile burned as it made its way up her throat to coat the leaf covered floor of the forest. When it was over, Sarah sat back on her heels and turned away in disgust. With shaking hands, she scooped up some water, rinsed her mouth, and splashed some on her face

The cool water helped, but only slightly. Her vision cleared, but her head continued to pound while her throat remained ragged and burning. Slowly, she became aware of the rustling of leaves behind her. Her heart jumped into her burning throat, and she froze in complete terror.

When nothing happened for several minutes, she timidly glanced behind her. There was nothing there. Now spooked, Sarah stumbled to her feet as quickly as she could and staggered off, following the stream. It was nearly dark and she jumped at every sound. The wind started to pick up, moaning eerily through the treetops, and making it impossible for her to stop shivering. Sarah began to move faster once again but found that she didn't have the energy to sustain the quickened pace.

More leaves rustled to her right. Sarah whipped around but couldn't see anything in the shadows. She considered her options. The small stream she was following was starting to widen. She could cross and hope that her destination lay on that side, putting the water between herself and the stretch of forest where she had last seen the horrifying beast. She didn't know how much further she had to go, or if the stream would continue to grow as she went. Another rustle and a moving shadow made the decision easy. Sarah crossed the stream, splashing noisily through the water, and set off at a dead run, her fight or flight response lending strength to her legs once more.

A few minutes later, Sarah saw the glint of moonlight through the trees. The clearing was just ahead! Sobbing in relief, she stumbled out of the dark forest and into the open. All energy expended, she collapsed on the grass several feet from the edge of the trees. Her head was swimming.

She didn't see the shadow detach itself from the dark forest behind her. Slinking low on its belly, the lionesque creature approached silently, inch by inch. Unknowing, Sarah lay on the ground, gasping and shuddering in reaction to her ordeal. Just a few more inches, and it would strike.

Sarah pushed herself up once more, determined to make it to Diona's cottage before passing out. There was a blur of movement in the corner of her eye and a searing pain in her upper back. A scream of horror ripped out of her already sore throat as she felt her legs give out one final time. She turned as she fell to see the creature approaching her, venom dripping from the tip of its lashing tail. It's fixed grin and the look of triumph in its feral eyes brought another scream to her lips, but to her horror, she couldn't make a sound. Blackness began to close in around her as she lay helpless. The last thing she heard was the trumpeting cry of triumph that the creature made as she slipped into unconsciousness.


	8. A Night of Venom

**Disclaimer** : I'm just having some fun. I don't own anything from the original story... but everything else is mine!

A/N - So, I gotta be honest. This chapter sucked for me. I think I rewrote it, from scratch, 4 or 5 times. I lost count of the number of times I rewrote one section or another. That being said, there are some SERIOUS thanks that go along with this chapter.

Many, many thanks to my long suffering husband, who put up with my foul mood while I was writing (and rewriting) and gave me several ideas along the way.

Thanks again to my behind the scenes beta: _Enchanted Peach Dreams_

Finally, another big thanks to my beta:  _ladyofshalott19_  who still found time to leave some feedback, despite having previous commitments this week.

Hope this chapter meets with everyone approval, Cheers!

* * *

Diona stood at the door of her cottage, watching the meadow for any sign of Sarah. She wrung her hands in anxiety every few minutes. Things had not gone according to plan today. Sarah was supposed to be given the power and then Diona was supposed to have brought her directly here. After that, the plan had been to deal with the inevitable consequences of Sarah's acquisition of that power as a mortal. Karen had completely twisted all those plans with her unexpected summoning of the Goblin King. Theoretically, that shouldn't have worked at all. Sarah was no longer a child, and the Labyrinth generally did not respond when someone wished an adult away. The rules had been bent, if not completely broken, and Diona had no idea how, or why, it had happened.

One thing was certain, Jareth wasn't supposed to know that Sarah was back in the Underground. Once he had been summoned, however, Diona knew that the Goblin King would take her, and she couldn't interfere without revealing herself to him. After that, the best that Diona had been able to come up with on short notice was a charm that tied Sarah to the area around Naida's pond. She had used the strongest charm she could find, and had given Naida strict instructions to send Sarah to her cottage as soon as she could. Knowing Sarah's condition, Diona had not been happy about forcing her to trek through the Labyrinth unaided, even if it was only for a short distance. The southern edge of the Labyrinth had been remarkably peaceful, given the chaos that had reigned in the Underground for the past several years. As far as Diona knew, nothing more dangerous than a few pixies had been spotted in the area recently. However, the Labyrinth was as unpredictable as it's king, and an area that had been proven to be safe one week, could easily turn deadly the next. So, while the section of the Labyrinth Sarah would have to traverse should be safe enough, Diona would rather not have risked it.

It had been hours since Jareth had returned to the Underground, holding Sarah in his arms. Diona knew that any number of things could go wrong now. Once Jareth had been summoned, she had lost any control she had over the situation. She could only hope that things would work out, and Sarah would make it to the cottage, unharmed.

In the many hours during which she had been waiting for news, Diona had berated herself for not doing things differently. She could have met them at the rusalka's pond, Jareth be damned; and she might have done that, if she hadn't seen the way Jareth acted when Sarah passed out in the cemetery. Until she had seen Sarah and Jareth together, Diona hadn't been aware of just how deep the connection between the two of them was. It obviously ran far deeper than anyone had expected and would cause complications going forward. At the time, she had reasoned that the risk of actively involving the Crown Prince was far greater than any risk to Sarah herself. Now she was wishing that she had made a different decision.

As the afternoon had worn away, Diona had gone to the door of her cottage more and more frequently. Each time, she scanned the bright meadow for any sign of the young woman before returning to the fire that burned merrily in the hearth. Beside the hearth, she had tried to scry for Sarah in a pink tinged crystal. Although her personal magic was strong, Diona wasn't able to see Sarah any more than Jareth was. Although she frequently checked on Naida, all she was able to glean from that activity was when the rusalka was alone. When she was with Sarah, the crystal would start to focus in on them, then simply pop like a soap bubble. Whatever it was that kept Sarah invisible, certainly interfered with her magic. So Diona could only wait and watch as the sun began to fall below the edge of the horizon. Now that it was full twilight, Diona was on the verge of setting off in search of Sarah herself.

She was still staring fruitlessly out into the darkness, not having left her doorway for over ten minutes, when a piercing shriek echoed across the meadow. The sound shattered the stillness of the area. It was faint, as though it came from the far side of the open space that spread out to the south of the cottage, but it was definitely a female voice, screaming in terror. The shriek was followed shortly by a trumpeting roar that made Diona's heart race in anxiety and fear. That sound was so distinct that there was no mistaking what manner of creature had made it. It was the howl of a manticore. Diona hesitated at the door, unsure of what action to take. A manticore was a dangerous foe, not to be taken lightly, and she was no warrior. Taking a deep breath, and trying to banish the terror that turned her knees weak, Diona left the cottage and rushed out into the cool autumn night. She prayed to the Fates that Sarah was still alive.

* * *

Hoggle was starting to get tired. He had long ago passed the point of mere irritation and graduated to righteous anger at the entire stupid situation. Why had Sarah been forced to trek through the Labyrinth again? Especially if her condition was so bad that the rusalka had felt it was urgent enough to leave her pond to find him? Everyone knew a rusalka couldn't stray too far from water and preferred the sanctity of her own pond above all others. Naida had certainly seemed distressed though, which made Hoggle worry for Sarah all the more.

Stumping along at the back of the group, Hoggle gave in to his morose thoughts as he watched Didymus and Ludo. Ludo lumbered along, seemingly unaffected by the long walk or the darkness. Every few minutes he would bellow, "Find Sawah!" and Didymus would agree with him. Other than that, Ludo shuffled along in silence, his huge eyes bright as they darted around, taking in everything that surrounded the group. Many people assumed that Ludo was somehow mentally deficient because of his manner of speaking. Hoggle and Didymus knew this thinking to be false. Ludo might not be the fastest thinker, but he generally came to the correct conclusion once he thought his way entirely through something.

It had taken them quite some time to pick up Sarah's trail in the Labyrinth. Rather than opting to head for the door that Sarah entered through, Hoggle had led them to another set of doors, slightly closer to the hut, but in the opposite direction from the one to which Naida had guided Sarah. Despite this fact, they were closer to finding Sarah than they would have been if they had made the long trek westward, beside the outer edge of the Labyrinth to that door. They had cut at least an hour of travel time by not following Sarah's exact path. That being said, they still had to locate Sarah's trail before they could begin to track her through the forest. Hoggle, Ludo, and Didymus had been able to cut across the crumbling maze section that bordered the Labyrinth's edge fairly quickly. The friends had then struck out along the rim of the forest, hoping to pick up Sarah's trail.

Eventually, they had to double back after they found no trace of Sarah. Hoggle had been about to despair of ever finding her, when Ludo had placed his shaggy head against the rock wall of the Labyrinth. Realising that he was listening to the rocks, Hoggle and Didymus had both remained silent. Eventually, the rock caller had pushed himself away from the wall, turned around, and headed back the way they came, yelling 'Sawah this way' over his shoulder at them.

In contrast to Ludo's relatively quiet demeanor on this hike, Didymus had kept up a relatively constant stream of nonsensical chatter. Hoggle found himself shushing the little knight frequently as they searched. Didymus did turn out to be an asset when it came to picking up Sarah's trail, though. Despite his inability to smell the putrid stench of the Bog, he did, in fact, have a good sense of smell. This turned out to be a lucky break.

When Ludo's pronouncement had sent them back the way they came, it had been very near sundown. Hoggle hadn't liked the odds of finding Sarah in the dark, so he had asked Didymus to sniff around every exit from the maze section that they came across. They very nearly walked past the old gate without seeing it in the gloom. If it hadn't been for Didymus getting excited, nearly dashing off alone when he caught Sarah's scent, they would have missed it altogether.

Hoggle snorted softly as they trudged through the darkened forest. Luckily, he had been close enough to head the knight off in his mad rush into the trees. Dragging the enthusiastic little fox-terrier back to the crumbling walls, Hoggle had pointed out the horribly mangled gate. Instantly, Didymus' exuberance was replaced with wide eyed caution. The three had set off from the old walls at a quick pace, making for the stream that Sarah had been told to follow.

After several minutes of walking through the forest, they had heard a sound that made all four of them freeze in their tracks. Somewhere in the endless twilight up ahead, there came the trumpeting roar of a manticore on the prowl. Hoggle had only heard the sound once before, and had never actually seen the creature itself. No one who encountered a manticore lived to tell the tale. In fact, there was never any trace of those who were attacked. They simply disappeared, possessions and all. The trio looked nervously at each other, wondering if Sarah was the cause of the commotion.

"I say," Didymus whispered. "What was that?"

Ludo moaned quietly but said nothing. Hoggle clutched his cudgel against his chest tightly. He had to swallow hard, several times, before he could sufficiently loosen his throat enough to speak. "Manticore."

Didymus' eyes grew wide and he sucked in a breath. His agile mind had been quick to grasp the implications of a manticore being loose in this section of the Labyrinth. Both friends glanced at the large rock caller, hoping that he wouldn't panic and start bellowing. Thankfully, Ludo seemed worried, but otherwise calm.

"What shall we do?" Didymus asked Hoggle. He had dismounted from Ambrosius. Amazingly, the sheepdog turned steed had not dashed away in fear as soon as the beast had roared. Didymus had obviously put much effort into training the animal in the last several years. Nevertheless, the fox-terrier was holding the reigns of his mount tightly as he stroked the shaggy head of the dog, keeping him calm.

Hoggle's first instinct was to turn and run back the other way as quickly as he could. He pushed the thought aside almost as soon as it entered his head. Sarah needed him. He took a deep, shaky breath and pointed off into the forest. In the direction that the trumpeting had come from. "We keep going that way."

A very human sounding scream echoed faintly through the forest. Almost instantly, Didymus had remounted and the trio of friends moved out as quickly and quietly as they could manage. The thick coating of leaves on the forest floor made absolute silence impossible, so they settled for a minimum of crunching while moving as quickly as possible. Another roar came to them as they hurried along, and each one of them sent up a fervent plea to the Fates that Sarah would be alright, even as they fought their own terror.

Hoggle kept a sharp ear out for any other unusual sounds as they began to get closer to the stream that ran through this part of the forest. They had heard one more howl several minutes ago. This one had sounded far closer, and much angrier, than the last two. Hoggle hadn't seen anything, but he was still fighting an inner battle against his fear when Didymus, who was riding slightly ahead of the other two, called back softly to get Hoggle's attention.

With an effort, Hoggle cleared his mind of fear and trotted forward to where Didymus sat on his trembling dog. "Look, over there, my friend." The diminutive knight kept his voice low but did not whisper. Hoggle followed the outstretched arm and pointed staff with his eyes. A ways off in the woods, in the direction that Didymus was pointing, Hoggle saw an area that had obviously been disturbed quite recently. A sturdy tree looked like it had been clawed and chewed. The leaf litter that covered the forest floor was scraped away in a wide arc in front of the tree and deep gouges had been dug into the earth within that area.

Approaching the disturbed patch of forest floor carefully, Hoggle, Didymus and Ludo surveyed the area for any sign of Sarah. Didymus wrinkled his small, black nose and said, "Truly, this beast doth stink of cat and offal."

Ignoring the knight's remark about the smell of the manticore, Hoggle snapped, "Any sign or scent of Sarah?" He was very much afraid that their friend had met an untimely, and gruesome, end. Hoggle stood helplessly in the center of the destruction while Didymus nosed about. Waiting anxiously for some indication of Sarah's fate. Ludo moaned softly to himself and joined Hoggle. After several moments of tense silence, Ambrosius barked and Didymus gestured for the friends to come closer. "That way," he said. "Sarah ran that way."

The relief of the friends was nearly palpable. "From the looks of the tree and the area around it, I'd say that the manticore missed and got stuck somehow," Hoggle said, looking over his shoulder at the torn up vegetation. "The question is, where did it go?"

Didymus shook his head sadly. Pointing in the same direction as Sarah had gone, although off on an oblique heading, he said, "It is stalking the Lady Sarah, even now."

Hoggles eyes widened and he stared off, first in the direction the manticore had taken, and then in the direction Sarah had gone. Thinking hard about what he knew of the lore surrounding manticores, he concluded that the thing would not abandon its chosen prey. That meant, that no matter what direction it seemed to take, it would soon be traveling in the same direction as Sarah. Thinking fast now, Hoggle tried to come up with a way to help Sarah that wouldn't get them all killed and eaten. He couldn't think of anything. Unsure of what to do, Hoggle debated the wisdom of charging off after Sarah.  _Maybe we should call for the King,_  he thought.  _Jareth can help Sarah._

Hoggle struggled with himself. He knew that Jareth would be able to ensure Sarah's safety, but he also knew that Sarah would not thank him for involving the King. Not to mention the fact that Naida had warned him against contacting Jareth.  _I don't want him anywhere near our Sarah, she deserves better than ta be on the receivin' end of that jerk's games,_ he thought, but his increasingly scattered thoughts made it impossible to think of any other plan.

Offering up a silent apology to Sarah, Hoggle closed his eyes and called out to Jareth. In theory, Jareth would always answer a summons from one of the Guardians, but in actual practice, it had been almost four years since that had been an accurate statement. Hoping that this time would be different, Hoggle reached out with the part of his mind that was connected to the Labyrinth. Sending his thoughts through the Labyrinth itself, he requested Jareth's presence. Perhaps unsurprisingly, there was no reply. Hoggle's spirits sank as he tried several times to find a pathway to send a message to Jareth. As the physical Labyrinth had been deteriorating, so too had the ability for the Guardians to send messages through it. That left no one else to help Sarah but the three of them. They had no choice but to go after Sarah by themselves if he couldn't call on Jareth for help. Mentally berating himself for a fool for wasting time trying to contact Jareth, he turned away from his friends and began to run, following Sarah.

"Wait," called Didymus. "Where are you going, my friend? Perhaps we should attempt to contact His Majesty!"

"Already did, it's no good!" Hoggle yelled back in reply. "We have ta help Sarah, no matter what!"

Didymus and Ludo looked at each other with wide eyes. They had known that Hoggle had changed since meeting Sarah, but this was entirely unexpected of him!

"Wait for us!"

Hoggle ran as hard as he could. There had to be something he could do to help Sarah. He wasn't about to lose his first and best friend, although he quailed at the thought of facing off against a manticore. Hoggle didn't know what he could do against such a thing, but he wouldn't leave her to face it alone. He heard Ludo and Didymus crashing through the brush behind him, calling for him to slow down and wait, but he didn't. For the first time in his life, Hoggle felt bold, strong, and fearless. Had he had time, he would have reveled in the feeling.

Just as the three friends saw the moonlight shining in the clearing ahead of them they heard another terrified scream pierce the rapidly cooling night air. It was closely followed by a triumphant roaring. They charged headlong out of the tree line in time to see the manticore crouching over the crumpled form of Sarah as she lay on the ground.

Without thinking, Hoggle screamed in rage and charged at the lionesque beast. Startled, the manticore looked up to see the three friends approaching. It swung it's dreadful jaws away from the unconscious woman and snarled as it faced the oncoming friends. It crouched down, tail held high, waiting for the chance to strike at one of them.

Didymus, mounted on Ambrosius, soon overtook Hoggle and brandished his staff at the creature. The manticore snarled again and swiped at the knight with a large paw. Ambrosius came to a stiff legged halt that was a credit to the past six years of training. He didn't tuck his tail and run, instead, he barked ferociously at the large catlike creature. Thinking that the more targets there were to distract the manticore, the better, Hoggle yelled at Didymus to get off the dog. Didymus hopped down from the saddle and gave his steed the command to harry the enemy, while Hoggle just barely managed to block its striking tail with his cudgel.

Moving awkwardly, the Guardian tried to recover from the force of the manticore's tail connecting with his weapon before the beast had the chance to strike again. He wasn't fast enough, and a swiping paw threw him backwards with enough force to tumble him to the ground in a heap. Shaking his head to clear it, he looked up to see Didymus blocking a blow from the creature's tail, as Ambrosius snarled and made mock charges to the beasts right. Realizing that his friends were successfully drawing the manticore  _away_  from Sarah's prone form, Hoggle stumbled to his feet and began edging around to the left. Keeping a careful eye on the manticore, Hoggle made it all the way around as Didymus and Ambrosius continued to hold the creatures attention.

Hoggle had just made it to Sarah when he saw Didymus make a mistake. Momentarily distracted by Ambrosius' whimpering as the manticore landed a blow with it's paw, Didymus failed to see the tail descending in time. His agility saved him from taking the stinger full in the stomach, but it tore a long scratch in his hind leg as he jumped out of the way. Hoggle watched as his friend landed heavily and tried to scramble out of the way of the teeth and paws that were quick to follow up the advantage. To his horror, it appeared that Didymus was having a difficult time standing on his injured leg. From the way Didymus was moving, Hoggle could tell that it wouldn't be long before he lost the use of his leg altogether.

Gripping his cudgel again, Hoggle stood over Sarah protectively and screamed at the manticore, trying to distract it from the small knight. At the same time, Ludo began to howl from the edge of the battle. He was calling the rocks.

* * *

Diona made her way across the meadow as quickly as her age would allow. She reviewed everything she knew about manticores as she went, mentally parsing through for any weaknesses. Unfortunately, she was unable to come up with anything that seemed promising. The only thing that seemed even remotely useful was that manticores turned to stone when they gazed upon their own reflections. Since she didn't have a mirror, that would not be of much use.

As she neared the other side of the field, she was surprised to hear the sounds of several someones battling the manticore. A deep, drawn out howling began, just as she topped the small rise that had hidden the skirmish from her view. Diona stood, stunned at the scene that unfolded before her eyes. Near the edge of the woods, Sarah lay on the ground, not moving. Hoggle, the Guardian of the southern edge of the Labyrinth, stood over her, shouting defiantly at the manticore that was raging towards him. Sir Didymus, the Guardian of the Bog, was dragging himself toward his steed, Ambrosius. In the background, a great, shaggy, reddish rock caller was howling. All throughout the meadow and the forest behind him, the rocks were shuddering and tumbling about. Moving and rolling in answer to Ludo's call, the rocks came barreling toward the manticore from all directions. Diona looked on in wonder as the rocks swerved to avoid her and headed toward the menacing creature below. Angrily, the beast whipped this way and that, trying to dodge, or bat away, all of the oncoming stones. Finally, one moderate sized rock slammed into the manticores head and it fell to the ground, knocked cold.

The rocks immediately stilled when Ludo became silent. Without the almost shocking sound of the tumbling rocks and the cries of the friends as they battled the snarling and howling beast, the silence was deafening. For a few moments no one moved, then Hoggle dropped to his knees beside Sarah.

"Sarah," he called, his voice as panicked as Diona felt at that moment.

Quickly, Diona crossed the rock strewn grass to where Sarah lay, thin and pale as death. Kneeling down beside the the girl's head, she felt for a pulse and was relieved to find one. Diona then checked Sarah over and was horrified to find a large puncture wound, just to the right of her left shoulder blade. The wound was perfectly round and still oozed blood and a clear fluid. Diona immediately guessed that Sarah had been stung by the manticore. She would need medical attention as soon as possible or the battle that her friends had waged on her behalf would be useless. Sarah would die before the night was over.

Turning to Hoggle, Diona said, "Do you think you can get her back to my cottage? She needs help."

Hoggle looked up at the old woman and Diona could see his desire to keep Sarah from harm warring with the fact that he knew she needed help. Unless he was planning on contacting Jareth, he wouldn't be able to provide that help soon enough to save her life.

Diona glanced at Didymus, who had successfully mounted the dog, but was swaying in the saddle as the venom began to overcome him nervous system. "I'm afraid Sir Didymus will also need medical attention," she told the Guardian before her. Glancing at the manticore, who was beginning to twitch, she added, "We must hurry."

Hoggle looked around at his friends, then at their enemy, which was showing signs of awakening soon. "Ludo, can you pick Sarah up?" Hoggle requested. He heaved himself to his feet and then turned to Diona asking, "Which way?"

Diona shook her head as Ludo gently lifted the unconscious Sarah. "There's no time for that, the manticore will simply track us if we try to go on foot. Gather close everyone, I'll transport us." Producing another pink tinged crystal, Diona checked to make sure that everyone was gathered closely enough to transport. This was going to leave her weakened, despite the short distance she was transporting everyone. Taking a deep breath, she threw the crystal on the ground in the midst of the group. They disappeared, leaving the manticore alone at the edge of the forest.

* * *

Hoggle stared into the flames that were dancing merrily in the fireplace. Night had fallen some time ago and Sarah still had not regained consciousness. She hadn't so much as moved in the entire time he had been with her. In fact, she hardly seemed to breathe. Hoggle drowsed next to Didymus, waiting until it was time to administer another dose of the antidote Diona had instructed him to make...

It was sometime after midnight. Ludo and Ambrosius had long ago snuggled together on the far side of the room and fallen asleep. Unexpectedly, Didymus regained consciousness. Hoggle, who had been dozing by the fire, was startled awake when the little knight spoke from his makeshift palette on the floor.

"Does the Lady Sarah still live, friend Hoggle?"

"Wh- what?" mumbled Hoggle, sitting up and looking around blearily.

"Sarah," repeated Didymus.

Hoggle jumped up and rushed to Sarah's bedside. She was still unconscious, but breathing fine. She had dark circles under her eyes and her thin frame seemed too small in the bed, but she was alive.

"She's fine," Hoggle sighed in relief, turning to Didymus.

Didymus smiled, "Thank the Fates! I had feared that we were too late, when I beheld my Lady on the ground, below the slavering jaws of that monstrous beast." He sat up and threw the covers back so he could look at the scratch on his leg. Hoggle had bandaged it roughly after tending to Sarah's back. Flexing the leg with a slight grimace Didymus said, "Tis but a scratch. I shall be up and about in no time."

"You'd better let Diona look at it before you start movin' around too much," Hoggle cautioned. "I'm no doctor, and she seems ta know a bit about healin'. I jus' did the best I could, I ain't no medic."

"You did this?" Didymus asked in surprise, gesturing at the bandaged leg. Hoggle nodded in affirmation and Didymus bowed as well as he could in his seated position. "Then, I owe you my life's blood. Henceforth, I shall do all in my power to repay this vast debt."

"Aww, c'mon Didymus, It's nothin'. We're friends. You woulda done the same for me."

"Even so," Didymus insisted, "I owe you a debt of gratitude and shall work tirelessly to return the favor."

Hoggle shook his head as Didymus spoke, but did not continue the conversation. He knew that nothing he could say would shake the little knight out of his noble convictions.

After several minutes, Didymus looked around and asked, "Where are we, my brother?"

This was the first time that Didymus had referred to Hoggle as his brother, and Hoggle felt a sudden and unexpected rush of love for the sentimental little knight. He had grown used to Didymus referring to Ludo as his brother. Hoggle hadn't realized until now how left out that had made him feel.

Smiling at Didymus, Hoggle replied, "We're in Diona's cottage. Soon as we got here, you fell off Ambrosius and lost consciousness. You weren't breathin' too good. Diona says it was the manticore venom."

Didymus' eyed widened as he heard this. "What about Sarah?"

"We was almost too late," Hoggle confessed. "She wasn't breathin' at all. Diona -"

Hoggle hesitated and screwed up his face for a moment, thinking hard. Finally he sighed and shook his head in resignation. "I feel like I should know who she is, but I jus' can't figure it out," he told Didymus. "Anyway, she told me how ta make an antidote, then told Ludo to put Sarah on the bed. After that, she went inta some sort of trance, doin' magic so's Sarah could breathe. I didn't think she was gonna be able ta do it. She was already so exhausted from bringin' us all here."

"Is the Lady Diona a healer?" Healing magic, while not exactly rare, was unusual enough to be highly prized when it manifested. It would be unusual, to say the least, to find a healer living out here, alone, in the wilds of the Labyrinth. Most healers lived comfortable lives, either at court or in a major city.

Hoggle scratched his head. "She must be. She had some potion she drank that perked her up before she started helpin' Sarah. She gave me a nip, nearly blew the top of my skull off. Strong stuff, but nice tastin'," Hoggle said, remembering the small swallow that Diona had given him. The flask sat on the shelf, over by the table, amongst the numerous bottles and flasks, and other paraphernalia of an apothecary.

While Hoggle was speaking, Didymus had been examining their surroundings. He spied Ludo and Ambrosius, sleeping in heap, on the other side of the room. "What about my brother Ludo and my faithful steed?"

Hoggle glanced in their direction. "They're fine… brother," he said gruffly, trying out the new relationship between them for the first time. Finding that he liked it, he continued telling Didymus what had transpired while he was sleeping. Hoggle told him how Diona had infused the antidote he had made with magic and how he had gingerly cleaned both Sarah's wounds and the knight's while they slept. Then he explained to Didymus that he was still giving Sarah a dose of the antidote, once each hour, as Diona had instructed.

"She has not woken?" Didymus interrupted him to ask.

Sadly, Hoggle shook his head and they both glanced at the bed where Sarah slept. Both were relieved to see her breathing steadily, despite their anxiety for her to awaken.

Turning back to Didymus, Hoggle took up the tale once more, relating the events of the evening up until Didymus had finally regained consciousness. "Before goin' inta that magical trance ta help Sarah, Diona changed the magic around the cottage, makin' it so's it was shiny on the outside. Good thing too, 'cause that manticore came, lookin' for Sarah, no doubt. Saw it's reflection, and turned back inta a stone!"

"Wonderful!" Didymus exclaimed with a yawn. "The beast hath met a fitting end. Where is our gracious hostess?"

Hoggle waved a hand at the door in the far wall. "She's in there. She passed out. Used up all her magic helpin' Sarah. I had Ludo put her in 'er bed after that. Good thing Sarah didn't need her help ta breathe no more by then."

Didymus blinked owlishly at him, tired again after listening to the events that had transpired in the night. Hoggle said, "You should lie down and try ta get some more sleep. I need ta give Sarah another dose and then get some sleep myself."

Nodding, Didymus settled down in his makeshift bed and was soon snoring softly. Hoggle prepared to give Sarah another dose of the antidote, noting that there was only about one dose left. He carefully dribbled the potion into her mouth, watching in satisfaction as her throat worked to swallow the concoction. The first few times he had administered a dose, Sarah had been unable to swallow on her own and he had been forced to let it trickle down her throat in tiny amounts.

Once he made sure that Sarah had gotten her entire dose, Hoggle banked the fire. He didn't know what time it was but the moon had long since set for the night. Yawning, he crawled into his own little nest of blankets and closed his eyes.

* * *

The next morning, Diona woke late. Her body was sore and aching from the stress of the previous evening. She was surprised to find herself in her bed. The last thing that she could remember was kneeling by Sarah's bed, pushing the manticore venom back as it tried to shut down her breathing. She supposed that she must have passed out. Although she was still physically exhausted, she was mentally alert and knew that she would get no more sleep.

Exiting her bedroom, she saw Didymus and Hoggle, both still snoring by the remains of the fire. Sarah still lay motionless in the bed, just as she had the previous night. From outside came the sound of barking. Ludo was nowhere to be seen at first, then a large shadow passed by the window and Diona smiled. He had taken Ambrosius outside.

Diona walked softly over to the bed where Sarah still slept. She noted that Sarah had some of her color back and she seemed to be breathing easily. A further check revealed that the heavy doses of antidote that Sarah had been given seemed to have done their job. Diona would have liked to do a magical check on her, but didn't dare try to access her magic in her current state. She had pushed herself well beyond her body's abilities last night. It was a miracle that she was even awake right now. Diona didn't want to test her luck any further.

Satisfied that Sarah would be fine, and reasoning that sleep was the best thing for the exhausted young woman right now, Diona shuffled over to the hearth to check on Didymus. As she bent down to check his leg, his eyes fluttered open. In shock, he gaped at her.

"Forgive me Pr-"

She quickly raised a hand to cut him off and he was instantly silent. "So, you know who I am? I had wondered if you would recognize me. How are you feeling Didymus?"

"Gracious Lady, of course I recognize you! How could I not? You are -"

Again she cut him off. "Right now Didymus," she told him sternly. "I am Diona, and nothing more."

"As you wish my Lady. Though, I do not understand why you should choose to hide your identity, I shall abide by your wishes and do my utmost to keep your secret."

She smiled at him, "Thank you, Didymus. Now, how is your leg feeling?"

"Much better Gracious Lady!" He exclaimed and attempted to stand. His first attempt landed him back on his pile of blankets in a heap. The stiffness in his injured leg making it difficult for him to put any weight on it. The next time, he was successful. Diona invited him over to the table where the light would be better for checking his wound.

A quick check and a fresh set of bandages was enough to get Didymus back on his feet. Diona warned him not to push too hard, then sent him outside to enjoy the sunshine. By this time, the noise of the others had woken Hoggle, and when Diona turned back to Sarah's bed she found him seated on the edge, gazing at Sarah.

When she came up behind him, he turned to face her. "She's alright, ain't she?" He asked with a worried frown. "I mean, she ain't woken up yet."

She smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder. His concern for his friend was quite touching. "She is going to be fine, Hoggle. She just needs rest." He nodded glumly. "Come, why don't you help me prepare a morning meal and I will do my best to answer any questions you might have."

As they worked to prepare a meal, Hoggle fired question after question at Diona, all of which she did her best to answer truthfully. By the time he had run out of questions, Diona had a pretty good idea of where the loyalties of this particular Guardian lay. His line of questioning showed that he was willing to protect Sarah from anything, even his own king, if need be. Whether or not she intended to turn Sarah over to "that rat, Jareth" was one of the first questions he asked her. After reassuring him that she had no intention of turning Sarah over to the Goblin King, he was much friendlier.

After the meal had been prepared, Diona and Hoggle loaded several trays with food and went out to bring it to the others. When Hoggle looked doubtfully back at Sarah, still fast asleep on the bed, Diona told him not to worry.

"I think Sara will continue to sleep for a while. She got a very large dose of venom, far larger than Didymus, and as you can see," she said, pointing to where Didymus napped in the shade of a large tree growing off to the right of the garden path, "He is still catching up on his rest as well."

The day passed quietly. Diona checked the wound on Sarah's back and praised Hoggle for the quality of the cleaning and bandaging he had done. At Didymus' request, she checked over Ambrosius as well. The dog had weathered the battle with the manticore well, despite getting somewhat knocked around by a few paw swipes.

Hoggle and Ludo discovered the petrified statue of the manticore not far from the cottage. Apparently, when the creature had approached the cottage it had become snared by it's own reflection in the newly reflective surface of the magical wards Diona had placed on the cottage. Ludo helpfully pushed the statue off into the meadow. Out there, Diona could still keep an eye on it, but it wouldn't be too close to the cottage for comfort.

As evening approached, and Sarah still had not regained consciousness, Hoggle began to worry again. He refused to leave her side as night approached, even falling asleep propped up against the bed. Diona finally bade Ludo move him back to a small bed of blankets, made up right next to where Didymus was already snoring in the glow of the coals. Diona pulled her favorite chair over to Sarah's bedside and sat in it to keep watch over her. Diona must have nodded off as well because she awoke to the sound of Sarah calling her name, very softly.

"Diona? Diona wake up!"

Diona was instantly awake. "Sarah dear, How are you feeling? Any pain?" She leaned over the side of the bed anxiously, while Sarah stared up at her in confusion.

"My back hurts," Sarah whispered. "And my head."

Diona nodded and turned from the bed. She walked silently to avoid waking the others as she made her way over to her apothecary table. She picked up a bitter concoction of willow bark that she had made earlier in the day, to help ease Sarah's pain. Her next stop was the tiny kitchen area, where she had some broth and fresh bread waiting. Adding a pitcher of water, two cups, a spoon, and a small bowl of fruit, she carried the tray back to the bed and placed it on the small night table before turning back to the bed.

"Now then dear," Diona said. "I think it's time for you to try sitting up, don't you?" Without waiting for Sarah to reply, she reached down and gently began encouraging her to sit up. Sarah groaned in pain a few times, but did manage to sit up. She was panting with exertion as Diona carefully rearranged some pillows behind her. Diona poured a cup of willow bark tea and set it in Sarah's hand before sitting down in her chair once more.

"Just sip that, Sarah, and you will start to feel better shortly," she told her. "Be careful, it's bitter."

Sarah dutifully took a sip of the bitter drink but kept her eyes on Diona over the rim of the cup. Diona waited patiently for the stream of questions that she knew would be forthcoming. She did not have to wait long.

"What happened?" Sarah asked.

"How much do you remember about yesterday?" Diona asked her in return.

Sarah thought for a moment before replying. "I remember everything up until right after that thing stung me!" She exclaimed. "What was that thing? How did you get me away from it? Where am I now?" Sarah blurted out question after question in a rush.

Diona smiled, a little grimly, and said, "That thing was a manticore and you are the only person ever to be hunted and stung by one and yet live to tell the tale."

Sarah's jaw dropped slightly, "But, how? I mean, did you use magic or…" she trailed off for a moment as a new thought occurred to her and her eyes grew wide as she continued, "... did… did Jareth… save me?"

Diona raised her eyebrows, both at Sarah's use of the Goblin King's first name, and her assumption that he had saved her from the manticore. This was certainly an interesting development. Recovering herself, Diona answered, "No, dear, your friends did." She pointed over to the hearth where Didymus and Hoggle lay, fast asleep.

"Hoggle and Didymus?" Sarah asked in wonder. "They  _saved_  me? That seems impossible. That… manticore, was so huge and fierce, it's just... They couldn't possibly have…" Sarah waved her hands in confusion and trailed off.

Diona smiled in understanding. "Things aren't always what they seem. Those two are not the same as they were when you knew them six years ago. They have changed. Many things have changed," she added sadly. "But they held off the beast, while Ludo called the rocks."

Sarah sat quietly and finished the willowbark tea she held. Her face remained thoughtful as she alternately gazed at her friends and into her cup. When she had finished the tea, she repeated a question she had asked earlier.

"Where am I?"

Diona smiled. "You are safe in my home, Sarah." She plucked the empty cup from Sarah's hand and replaced it with a deep bowl of broth. Sarah looked down and immediately tried to give the bowl back. Diona shook her head. "You must eat, Sarah, to regain your strength."

* * *

Sarah swallowed hard and shook her head again. "I can't," she whispered.

Diona tsked at her. "Whyever not, child?"

Sarah looked down. The broth in the bowl looked amazing. It had chunks of various vegetables floating in it, as well as some sort of meat that looked a lot like chicken. It smelled even better than it looked, if that was possible. She felt tears come to her eyes as she imagined what would happen if she tried to eat it.

"I can't," Sarah repeated, almost despairingly. "Please, it's not that I don't appreciate what you are trying to do for me, it's just that, I haven't been able to eat since the last time I was Underground."

Diona nodded thoughtfully. Turning to the tray, she picked up the spoon and handed it to Sarah. "Tell me, last time you were here, did you eat anything?"

Sarah nodded miserably. "I ate a bite of a peach that Jareth made Hoggle give me. I didn't know it at the time, but it must have been faery food. It made it so that I wasn't able to eat normal, Aboveground food anymore. At least, not easily," she added.

"I think," said Diona, "that you should try this." She gestured to indicate the bowl that Sarah still held in her hands. "I think you will be pleasantly surprised."

Sarah looked at her doubtfully. Diona seemed different Underground. Sarah had known her only as her slightly dotty old neighbor, who loved to have her visit and always told long, rambling fairy tales while they sipped lemonade on the back porch. Underground, the slight air of eccentricity had vanished, and the old woman was sharp as a tack. Her gaze was direct, and she spoke with authority. Sarah didn't know what to make of it all and she looked suspiciously at her old friend.

"Who are you?" She asked quietly. Diona smiled at her and gestured again to the bowl without saying anything. Sarah rolled her eyes and said, "You know, it will only make me sick."

"Oh, I doubt that, dear. Go ahead and try a bite."

Sighing, Sarah picked up the spoon. Diona clearly wasn't going to be happy until Sarah showed her the reaction she had to food. Holding her breath, Sarah dipped the spoon into the broth and lifted it to her lips. Grimacing in anticipation of the taste, she put the spoon in her mouth.

It was unlike anything Sarah had eaten in years. The rich broth slid over her tongue, warm and comforting. It seemed to Sarah that she could taste every spice and every vegetable individually. She actually moaned as she tasted food for the first time in six years. She closed her eyes to better savour the taste that she was sure would turn to ash in her mouth at any moment. When it didn't she looked sharply at Diona, who was watching her with a look of satisfaction on her face.

"What did you do to me?" Sarah asked suspiciously.

Diona laughed, a warm, comforting sound and replied, "Nothing, sweetheart. It's just that you are eating faery food again."

Sarah jerked back, nearly spilling the entire bowl. Broth sloshed over Sarah's hand and Diona reached out to steady her. "Won't this make everything worse?" Sarah practically wailed.

"Shhh," Diona admonished her. She handed Sarah a napkin to clean up the small spill. "No dear, the damage is already done. Do you remember the story of Persephone and Hades?"

Sarah thought for a moment and then nodded slowly. "Hades stole Persephone away to be his queen. Her mother, Demeter, fell into depression and withdrew her blessing from the land, causing winter to cover the land for the first time." Sarah recited the tale as though she were a small child repeating a lesson for her teacher.

Diona smiled. "So you were paying attention to the fairy tales I was telling! What about Persephone?"

"She was distraught at being separated from her mother and refused all of Hades' advances. She refused to eat or drink anything. Eventually, Zeus, spurred into action by the starvation of his worshippers, decreed that Persephone must be returned above. Before he allowed her to leave his realm, Hades tricked her into eating several pomegranate seeds..." Sarah's eyes widened as she fell silent at the implications of the tale.

"Diona nodded, "Yes, and because of that she was never able to fully escape from Hades' realm. Now, you were given faery food here in the Underground. Being mortal, you were unable to eat mortal food thereafter. Faery food, on the other hand, no longer holds any danger for you. In fact, it is the only thing you can eat while you remain in mortal form." As she spoke, she held out a slice of buttered bread to Sarah. Sarah hesitated only a moment before taking the bread and stuffing it into her mouth hungrily.

"Easy now," Diona admonished. "Don't choke yourself!"

Sarah turned a little red with embarrassment and swallowed before answering. "Sorry, it's just so good!"

"I understand, dear. Now finish that broth before it gets cold."

Sarah did as she was told. In almost no time she had finished the broth and everything else on the tray. She couldn't remember the last time she actually felt full after eating. It felt wonderful.

After a quick check of the wound on her back, Diona suggested that Sarah get some more sleep. With a small contented smile on her face, she allowed Diona to help her lie down again. Sarah stared into the fireplace, feeling warm, full, and safe for the first time in years. Despite everything, she was, if not happy, then at least at ease for the moment. Between one contented thought and the next, she dropped off to sleep.


	9. Awakenings

**Disclaimer**  - Don't own the original characters, or the world, but the plot and the extras are mine!

A/N - Thanks to Enchanted Peach Dreams and ladyofshalott19 for their input on this chapter, as well as my husband who edited for me. Luckily for you, my readers, he never lets me get away with lazy writing!

**WARNING - Adult type inferences and some graphic descriptions of violence ahead.**

Hey, I promised you warnings, not a tame story. Cheers!

* * *

When Sarah awoke the next morning, the sun was shining, and she could hear the sounds of someone puttering about the house and garden. Despite her ordeal yesterday, she felt better than she could remember feeling for a very long time. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, thinking how wonderful it was to be able to wake up to the sounds of nature, rather than the sounds of the hospital. Eventually, curiosity got the better of her enjoyment and Sarah began to look around. The rustic cottage was aglow with morning sunshine. The dark wooden floor of the home was polished and shining in the light. The whitewashed walls were softened with cloth hangings and brightly colored tapestries, and a slight breeze stirred the curtains over the open windows. The entire room was neat and orderly. Sarah could easily see that it was separated out into different areas, depending on what went on in that part of the room. She could see an area that clearly served as a kitchen, and another that held a braided rag rug and a rocking chair. One corner was a mystery to Sarah. It was filled with drying racks and glass instruments that made Sarah think of her high school chemistry lab. There were three doors in the room, each intricately carved and painted a cheerful green color. Sarah supposed they led to other parts of the cottage that she hadn't yet seen.

Having finished with her inspection of the room, Sarah slowly disentangled her hand from the blankets that sat heavily upon her, keeping her warm in the chilly air of the morning. She was disinclined to move, but felt that it was time for her to get up. Her movements caused a twinge of pain in her back. The previous day came back to her in flashes. She was running through the woods, and something was chasing her. She saw the monster looming up, making its horrible trumpeting noises. The creature's stinger stabbed into her back, sending fire up and down her spine. She remembered falling, unable to scream as blackness closed in around her. She gasped as the pain brought the memories crashing back on her. The sound garnered immediate attention.

"My Lady!" gasped Didymus, popping up next to the bed and staring at her in wonder. "Thou art awake! We have been so worried about you."

Sarah smiled at him to cover up her start at his unexpected appearance. She hadn't seen him as she inspected the room. He must have been sitting next to the bed, below her line of sight. "Hello Didymus. It's been a long time." He looked just they way Sarah remembered. His eyepatch and blue feathered hat could have been the same ones he wore six years ago for all she could tell.

"Indeed, My Lady." Didymus patted her hand. "I will go and let the others know that you have awakened."

Sarah nodded her head in response and was amazed to discover that her ever present headache seemed not to have made an appearance this morning. It was odd, not having a headache. Sarah could only attribute its absence to Diona's painkiller and the food. It was nice to have her mind clear for once and not clouded with pain. She resumed her attempts to disentangle herself from the bedclothes while Didymus sprang away from the bed and exited the cottage. Sarah had managed to extricate both her arms and was slowly working her way towards a sitting position when Hoggle burst through the door that led outside, followed by the rest of her friends.

"Sarah! We was so worried about you! Are ya alright?" Hoggle rushed to her bedside, his bag of treasures bouncing at his waist, as always, and grabbed her hand as he spoke. He too could have been wearing the same clothing that he had worn during their adventure the last time she had been Underground. Although Sarah thought she noticed some new patches on the knees of his dirty trousers as well as a few more rips, carefully stitched up, on his vest.

"Hoggle! I'm so glad to see you, are you alright?" Sarah squeezed Hoggle's hand and looked around at all her friends, noting that everyone seemed to be in good health. "Diona told me that you guys saved me from the manticore! How on earth… why would you take such a risk?"

"We're okay, Sarah, really," said Hoggle patting her arm. "No need ta get all upset now."

Sarah couldn't seem to stop the tears that flooded down her face as she thought about how her friends, almost her only friends, had put themselves in such danger to help her. She could hardly believe that they were all gathered around her. She never thought that she would get to see them in person again, much less be able to hug them. She reached out, careful not to overextend her still sore shoulder and pulled Hoggle into a fierce hug.

"Truly, my lady," Sir Didymus piped up from his place at the end of the bed. Sarah released Hoggle as he continued. "There is no need for tears. We have all come through the adventure alive and well. Therewithal, thou wouldst have done no less for us, notwithstanding the fact that thou art a maiden."

Sarah laughed and Hoggle rolled his eyes as Didymus' sense of dignity and penchant for dramatic speeches had got the better of him again. She wiped her tears away as Ludo moved to hug her gently. She patted the arm of the great hairy beast, who smiled at her but said nothing. "I can't thank you all enough," Sarah told them sincerely.

"We know, Sarah, we're just glad ta see you safe and sound and on the mend. Truth be told, ya looked right terrible when we got ta you, little lady," Hoggle said. "We was afraid you wasn't gonna wake up before we had ta leave."

Sarah's face fell when she heard this. She had really hoped that she wouldn't be parted from her friends so soon. She had already lost so much this week. "You're all leaving!?" she exclaimed in dismay.

"They must leave, Sarah, they have been here for two days now. If they do not return to their duties, the King will come looking for them." Unseen by the reunited friends, Diona had entered the main room, closing the green door behind her. Ludo shuffled out of her way and she shooed Hoggle and Didymus back away from the bed as she approached. "How are you feeling, Sarah?"

Sarah stared at the older woman. She had been too wrapped up in her injury, and the overwhelming fact that she was actually able to eat, to notice much about the woman last night. Today, she was feeling better and couldn't help noticing the way Diona was dressed. Used to seeing the woman wearing neat pant suits, with her grey hair coiled in an elegant twist, it was very odd to see her now, dressed like some sort of peasant woman. She wore a plain grey gown, covered from shoulders to toes in a snowy white apron and her hair was plaited in a long braid that fell over her shoulder. It was as white as her apron on the crown on her head, but got darker and darker as you looked down the length, finally culminating in a brownish, grey at the ends. "I'm better, Diona, thank you," Sarah replied, still slightly distracted by the differences in the woman's appearance. "But, can't they stay until I feel better?"

"You have a long way to go before you are fully recovered. Your friends have duties to perform and they must return to them." Seeing Sarah's eyes begin to mist with tears, Diona continued, "They will be able to visit frequently."

Sarah nodded. Diona gestured toward a door that sat across from the bed she had been sleeping in. "Perhaps you would like to freshen up? My bathroom might not be able to rival those in the cities, but it is at least furnished in a familiar way for you."

Sarah brightened up considerably at the idea that she would be able to clean up. It felt like years since she had been able to get a properly clean. Diona and Hoggle helped her stand and led her into the bathroom. In comparison to the modern bathrooms that Sarah was used to, it was very rustic. The sink and tub were made of hammered copper and both had a hand pump to bring the water in. The tub reminded Sarah of a large stock tank that she recalled from taking riding lessons as a child, although it was far larger than the metal tanks used to water the horses. The sink looked like a shallow bowl attached to the wooden countertop. A small, closeted area held a fairly primitive commode, but it was better than an outhouse. The flagstone floor was worn smooth from years of use and the wood paneled walls shone in the morning sun that streamed past the curtained window above the sink. While Diona helped Sarah over to the door that led to the privy she asked Hoggle to pump water into the tub.

"Won't it be cold?" Sarah asked.

Diona smiled at her. "I will make sure that it is warm. It's not as good as the fine plumbing and other facilities that are available in the cities, as I said before, but it can be made to work just as well." She explained to Sarah the workings of the toilet that she found in the closet and Sarah was relieved to find out that it worked much like a modern toilet, even if it did look rather like a medieval privy.

When she came back out into the larger portion of the bathroom, she found that Hoggle had finished pumping water into the tub and had left the room. Diona stood next to the tub, concentrating on a pink tinged crystal in her hand. "How do you like you like your baths, dear?"

"Hot and bubbly," Sarah answered immediately, watching in fascination as the orb in Diona's hand glowed briefly. The older woman dropped the orb into the water and then stepped back. Steam rose from the tub of water that had been cold only a moment before.

"The shelf behind the tub has different kinds of soap that you can add to the bath. Choose one you like. When you pour it in, the magic will make it foam up a little, just like an Aboveground tub that is filled with bubble bath." Diona turned and retrieved a couple of fluffy white towels from a closet in the corner. Placing them on the chair that sat at the end of the tub, she looked expectantly at Sarah.

Not understanding what it was that Diona was waiting for, Sarah stood in the middle of the bathroom, staring back at her strange neighbor in fascination.

"Sarah, you need to get completely undressed and I need to remove those bandages so you can bathe," Diona said gently.

Sarah's face turned crimson as she realized that she was dressed in little more than her undergarments. She had long ago learned to keep her body hidden. It was safer that way when you spent a lot of time in treatment centers and hospitals. There were people who liked to take advantage of the fact that some of the patients were unable to defend themselves. Sarah had managed, by keeping to herself and keeping her wits about her, never to become a victim. One of the ways she had accomplished that was by making sure that she never appeared in front of anyone without being fully dressed. Now, here she was, parading about in her underwear in front of all her friends.

Sarah knew that Diona didn't mean her any harm, nor did Hoggle and the rest. She was simply embarrassed. The habit of remaining covered was deeply ingrained by now and she also knew that her body was far too thin to be considered attractive. Slowly, Sarah approached the tub.

Sensing that Sarah was uncomfortable, Diona wrapped an arm around Sarah's thin waist and squeezed gently. "It will be alright." Winking, she said, "I promise, I won't look."

This elicited a nervous giggle from Sarah, who turned her back so Diona could remove her bandages. After looking the wound over, Diona pronounced it to be healing well. Quickly, Sarah shed her remaining garments and Diona held her arm to steady her as she stepped into the hot water.

Sarah hissed at the heat but sank down quickly to sit, relaxing once her body was hidden below the surface of the water. After being soaked in the rain, trudging, and then running, through the Labyrinth, not to mention being nearly killed by a mythical creature, Sarah felt as though the dirt had been ground into her skin. Being able to slide into a hot bath was heavenly.

After spending a few minutes pulling stoppers out of various bottles of soap, Sarah chose one from the shelf and poured it into the water. She was delighted when it did indeed foam up wonderfully upon coming into contact with the water, filling the bathroom with the scent of vanilla and ginger blossoms. Diona was about to leave when Sarah called her back.

"Uhm, I don't think I can wash my hair, not with my shoulder. Can you help?

"Of course, I should have thought of that myself."

As Dionas hands gently massaged her scalp, Sarah asked a question that had been nagging at her all morning. "If you live here, what were you doing Aboveground all those years?"

"I was there to keep watch over you."

"Why?"

Sarah sat quietly, enjoying the hot water and waiting for Diona to answer. As the silence stretched out, she wondered how many secrets her old friend was keeping from her. The question had been simple, and yet even the answers to simple questions seemed to elude her.

Eventually, Diona spoke, but her answer did not still the burning curiosity that Sarah felt. "Because you are important, Sarah. Now, time to rinse," Diona said in a neutral tone. Sarah's mouth popped open to protest the non-answer that Diona had given her, but closed just as quickly when Diona lifted a pitcher of clean water next to the shelf.

Sarah obediently tilted her head back so Diona could pour the clean water out over her head. Once the soap had been rinsed out, Diona massaged something slippery into her hair that Sarah supposed was some form of conditioner. After several minutes, Diona rinsed that out as well and then draped Sarah's dark brown hair over the rim of the copper tub.

"I know you have a great many questions, Sarah, and I will answer them, but not today. You have a great deal of healing still to do, child." Diona toweled Sarah's dripping hair off as she spoke. "Please, just be patient for now."

"I am not a child, nor am I as fragile as people believe," Sarah reminded her indignantly. "I don't need to be protected."

"Of course not, but you have to give yourself some time to adjust, to grieve your losses and come to terms with what has happened to you. That won't happen overnight." As she spoke, Diona moved about the bathroom, bundling the used towels into a basket by the door. She placed a larger fresh one on the chair that Sarah had noticed before.

"You'll have to tell me eventually," Sarah pointed out as Diona lifted the basket of towels.

"And I will," Diona promised. "Just not today. Today is for you to rest and recover." Diona smiled at Sarah as she opened the door. Your friends will leave after lunch, so don't spend all day in the tub! And Sarah," she added as she stepped out the door. "Don't worry, we will talk."

The door shut softly behind Diona and Sarah stared at the stout wood for a few moments before turning away. On one hand, she longed to pitch a fit at not immediately being given the answers she craved. She wanted to be angry, to go striding out of the bathroom in a towering rage to demand that she be told what was going on. Oh, it's not fair! The voice of her younger self echoed through her head.

Sarah smiled, a little bitterly, at the echoes of her younger self. That girl who had run the Labyrinth all those years ago hadn't had a clue what she was talking about. She had ignorantly yelled about the unfairness of it all, never realizing how good she actually had it. "I wonder what your basis for comparison is," the Goblin King had said. At the time, she hadn't really had one. For all her loneliness and teenage angst, Sarah had been spoiled, sheltered even.

Sarah swished her hands through the still warm water in the tub, watching the bubbles eddy and swirl on the surface of the water. The intervening years had taught her just how immature she had really been. Of course things weren't fair, nothing ever was. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Sarah laid her head down on her knees her and closed her eyes, ignoring the slight pull on the wound on her back. If nothing else, the past six years had taught her patience. It had also taught her to appreciate the good times. Sarah drew in a deep ragged breath and cleared her mind of all questions.  _Live in the moment,_  she reminded herself.  _At this moment, I'm safe. I have to be strong. Live in the moment and be strong…_

As she sat in the warm tub and listened to the birdsong that came through the bathroom window with the bright morning sunshine, Sarah repeated this mantra to herself, over and over. It had become her ritual, her way of coping with everything that had happened to her. Live in the moment and be strong. It had gotten her through some of her darkest days in the hospital. It was equally effective today.

Eventually the water began to cool and Sarah reluctantly scrubbed her body with a small cloth that Diona had draped over the edge of the tub for that purpose. Carefully, Sarah stood and then climbed out of the tub. Wrapping herself in the fluffy towel that Diona had left for her, she tiptoed over to the door and poked her head out. Seeing no one but Diona, Sarah eased out the door.

"Uhm… Are there any clothes around?"

Diona turned from the table where she was preparing a meal and smiled at her. "Of course dear, I laid some out on the bed for you. Don't worry, I sent all of the others outside to prepare a nice place for us to eat lunch. I always like to eat outside on nice days, don't you?"

Sarah considered that for a moment but didn't answer. She couldn't remember the last time she had enjoyed eating food outside. She supposed it did sound nice. At the mention of food, her stomach did a flip. While her mind still reacted with disgust, clearly her body knew that she would be fine.

Remembering how the food she had eaten the night before had tasted, Sarah hurried to the bed. Someone had stripped the bed, she noted. She looked around, but saw no sign of new linens, or even the dirty ones. Sarah made a mental note to offer to help with the laundering of the linens later, provided that the entire process wasn't completed magically of course, and examined the clothing that had been laid out for her.

A simple pink cotton dress was spread out on the bed. It had a modest scoop neck and sleeves that would reach her elbow. Next to it was a pile of undergarments, including a white underskirt. There was a wide, white ribbon, obviously meant to be used as a belt as well as a thinner ribbon, clearly meant for her hair.

Sarah nearly laughed out loud at the idea of wearing such things. Diona obviously noticed the expression on her face because Sarah heard a chuckle coming from her right. She looked over to find Diona regarding her with an amused expression and a twinkle in her eye.

"I know it's not what you are used to wearing," the older woman said, with barely restrained mirth in her voice. "I had meant to retrieve some of your own clothing, but I didn't get a chance to do so yet."

"Oh, it's lovely," Sarah said. She fumbled for words, not wanting to seem ungrateful, but none would come. She could feel the blood rising to her face as embarrassment set in.

"It's all right, Sarah." Diona put a comforting hand on her arm. "This is typically what young ladies Underground wear, although you are, perhaps, a bit too old for the ribbons. There is no one here to see you but your friends, and they will not mind. This has been in storage for a long time," Diona added quietly.

Quickly, Sarah scooped up the clothing with one arm, clutching the towel around her body with the other. "This will be fine. I didn't mean to seem ungrateful. You've done so much for me already."

Diona waved away her gratitude with a smile as she beckoned Sarah closer. "Let me check your back."

Obediently, Sarah turned and allowed the towel to fall far enough for Diona to examine the manticore's sting. After Diona pronounced it to be doing fine after the bath, she decided that it no longer required bandaging and would probably not scar badly. Relieved to hear that she would heal well, Sarah headed toward the bathroom, thanking the old woman once again for the clothing as she went.

"Never mind, dear, we will get you some clothes that are more to your taste soon enough. Besides, your friends are planning a bit of a welcome back party for you. It will be nice if you dress up a little," Diona replied.

Flashing a smile back over her shoulder, Sarah disappeared into the bathroom with the clothing. When she emerged, she was grinning at her handiwork. The dress didn't reach to the floor, so the white underskirt was visible below the pink layer, just skimming the tops of her bare feet. Instead of tying a huge bow at the base of her back with the large white ribbon, Sarah had managed to twine it about her too thin waist, starting just below her breasts and ending at her hips. The effect was reminiscent of pictures of the ancient greek goddesses she had seen in books.

Sarah had also found a hairbrush in the bathroom. She had brushed and braided her hair in a single plait down her back, twisting the white ribbon through the braid and using it to tie off the end. She had managed to make the entire ensemble look far less like it was meant for a little girl. The effect was very attractive.

Diona complimented her on the way that she was able to make the outfit unique and handed Sarah her shoes. The sturdy black flats clearly didn't go with the dusky, rose colored dress, but Sarah was grateful that they were clean. Slipping them on, she hurried out the front door to join her friends, anticipation adding an unaccustomed spring to her step and color to her usually pale cheeks.

* * *

Katie hurried through the poorly lit corridors of the hospital, water dripping from her boots with every step she took. The odd thunderstorm that had suddenly appeared two days ago seemed to have heralded the arrival of an early spring in the area. It had been raining ever since, and the bad weather had spoiled her day off. This morning, it had caused several traffic accidents that made her late for work. She hated to be late. Not only was she in for a dressing down from the charge nurse for being late, but she would miss the chance to take Sarah her breakfast. She always made it a point to be the one who brought Sarah her breakfast tray, despite the fact that it wasn't really the nurse's job. She liked to talk to the lonely patient, and Sarah always seemed to eat a little more when she was around.

Katie rushed into the locker room and stuffed her umbrella, coat, and boots into her locker. Quickly sliding her hospital shoes onto her feet, she darted back out of the room, slamming her dull green locker closed with a clang as she went. She dodged the questions of the charge nurse with a shrug and a quick "Rain and traffic…" and hurried off to start her day.

Katie was planning on checking in with Sarah first thing, but got sidetracked when Danny began having another episode as she walked past his room. Unable to ignore the screaming and pleading coming from the room, Katie entered. What she saw shocked her.

Danny was completely naked, lying prone on the bed without covers. It was embarrassingly obvious what his morning activities had likely consisted of, but that was not the most shocking thing about the scene. Somehow, he had managed to get his hands on something sharp, and the long vertical cuts on his arms attested to that fact. Nor were his arms the only place that he had cut himself. The sheets under his hips were rapidly turning crimson from deep lacerations that Katie could hardly believe any man would inflict on himself. Thick blood was smeared all over the rails of the hospital bed and dripped slowly onto the floor. Despite the severity of his injuries, Danny was still screaming and staring in horror across the room. Katie had been so focused on the man on the bed that she hadn't noticed the other person in the room.

At first glance, it looked like a young woman who was standing several feet away from the end of the bed. Katie's immediate thought was that one of the other patients had been participating in Danny's activities and had attacked him. Upon looking closer, Katie realized that this was no patient. The hair on the back of her neck prickled when the being turned to face her. Despite the stunning beauty of the young woman, Katie could feel the evil oozing from her, even before the thing lifted it's blood covered hands for Katie to see. The long, razor sharp nails glistened under their red patina of blood. Before she could say anything, the being in the room gave her a small, almost vicious smile, and disappeared.

The entire encounter lasted no longer than a couple of seconds before a sudden silence from Danny pulled her attention back to the bed. The young man had finally lost consciousness due to blood loss. Katie rushed across the room, her feet skidding in the blood that coated the floor, and jammed the call button as fast as she could. Screaming for backup all the while, she attempted to stem the tide of crimson that was flowing freely from Danny's right arm.

As the room filled with nurses and orderlies, Katie worked feverishly to save the young mans life. There hadn't been time to put on gloves so her hands were quickly red to the wrist. Katie applied pressure to the brachial artery above the wrist with one hand while attempting to close the four vertical slash marks that ran down Danny's lower arms. The room filled around her as other nurses and eventually doctors, including Dr. Preston, were summoned to help. Finally, another nurse pulled her away and took her position at Danny's right side as he was wheeled away for further treatment.

Katie looked around the room in shock. It was a mess. There was blood and equipment scattered everywhere. Maintenance is going to be really unhappy, she thought inanely. She stood there, not really seeing what was going on around her until Dr. Preston placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Katie, are you alright? Did Danny attack you?"

Shaking herself out of her reverie, she turned to face the doctor. "No. I'm fine."

"Are you ok to answer some questions?" he asked, lifting a clipboard and grabbing the rolling table that had pushed out of the way by the frantic nurses.

"Yeah, sure," Katie said, not really paying attention to what Dr. Preston was saying. Her mind had jumped back to the odd encounter with the female entity.

He placed the clipboard on the table and grabbed a pen out of the pocket of his shirt. "So you came into the room because you heard him screaming?" Dr. Preston's voice was terse as he jotted notes on the chart attached to the clipboard.

"Right, Dr. Preston, he was clearly agitated and I thought that I might be able to calm him down." Katie was still looking at the spot where she had seen the creature in consternation.

"Did you see him make the cuts? What did he use?" He was looking at her oddly.

Pushing whatever it was that she had seen out of her mind, Katie snapped her attention back to the doctor. She needed to be sharp here. Her abstraction was clearly bothering him. "He was already bleeding when I came into the room. I have no idea what he got his hands on that would have made those cuts." She swallowed hard as she spoke, knowing that she was telling a blatant lie. The doctor's pen paused in its mad scribble across the paper and for a moment, Katie was sure he was going to call her on it. What else could she do? It wasn't as though he would believe the real story. Thankfully, he did no such thing. He seemed to accept her story, and why wouldn't he? There was nothing to suggest the presence of anyone but Danny in the room.

The doctor sighed heavily, looking around the blood spattered room. "Clearly he had something. Before the room is cleaned, we are going to have to find it. This can't happen again."

Katie nodded. Glancing at the paper on the clipboard, Katie decided it would be a miracle if Dr. Preston's secretary was able to transcribe those notes. The doctor's already messy handwriting was nearly illegible. Finally the doctor sighed again and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Did you see anything else?"

"No." stated Katie, knowing that mentioning the creature that looked like a young woman would not help Danny. At best, it would only get some poor patient in trouble. At worst, it would earn Katie her own room in this wing of the hospital. She shook her head to emphasize her reply and moved to begin the search for the object that Danny had been injured with. Katie seriously doubted that Danny had inflicted those wounds on himself and she was not optimistic about finding anything. She could guess what had likely caused the horrifying injuries, but couldn't tell anyone about it without being deemed insane herself.  _This must be what it is like to be Sarah_ , she thought as she moved about the room, searching for something she knew wasn't there.

"Katie, go and get cleaned up. I'll have the orderlies check the room," said Dr. Preston.

Looking down, Katie realized that she was covered in blood. "Thank you, doctor," she replied. She hurried away, glad to get out of that room and have a little time to herself to process what she had seen in private.

Once she had showered and changed into fresh scrubs, Katie hurried back up to her floor. She had been thinking about the morning's events while she cleaned herself up. There was only one person who Katie thought would be able to shed some light on what she had seen.

Katie hurried into Sarah's room, only to find it empty. Confused, she checked the bathroom, thinking that perhaps Sarah was taking a shower. No one was there. Although Sarah didn't commonly mix with the other patients, Katie supposed that it was possible Sarah had gone to the common room. When she did not find Sarah there either, she became very worried. Hurrying to the nurses station, she checked on Sarah's status.

Katie stared at the computer monitor in shock. The yellow status seemed to leap off the blue background at her: ELOPEMENT/LATE RETURN. The words flashed on the screen, indicating that Sarah had not yet returned from attending her father's funeral. If she had not just searched the entire wing trying to locate her, Katie would have been sure that Sarah's status was simply a data entry mistake. Sarah was generally known to be responsible and had never been considered a flight risk, even at her worst. Her status, combined with Katie's inability to find her, made it certain. Sarah had never returned to the hospital.

Signing out of the computer, Katie vacated the nurses station and went in search of Dr. Preston. She found him still outside Danny's room, where the orderlies were finishing their search for whatever had made those lacerations. The look on the doctor's face told Katie that her suspicions had been correct, they hadn't found anything.

"Excuse me, Dr. Preston," she said, as she stopped next to him in the hallway.

Tearing his eyes off the mess that was now being cleaned by maintenance, Dr. Preston turned to her. His eyes were tired and he had a defeated look on his face. Katie sympathised. It was difficult enough to work here without such incidents. Every attempt was made to keep the patients from injury, but sometimes, there just wasn't anything the staff could do. She knew that Dr. Preston had been optimistic about Danny. He had seemed to make some great strides with his treatment lately. Something like this was a serious blow to any psychiatrist, but especially one who's patient seemed to have been moving toward some manner of recovery. "What is it Katie, have you remembered something else?" There was a hopeful tone in his voice and Katie was sorry to have to crush that.

"No, it's about another patient, Sarah Williams."

"Ah yes, Sarah. The last couple of days must have been so hard on her. Her stepmother called to let me know that Sarah would be spending a few days at home with her family. She was to come back this morning."

"So you are aware that she is listed as an elopement or late return?" Katie asked. She was surprised. Katie knew how Sarah felt about Karen Williams. It was unlikely that Sarah would have spontaneously decided to spend the night under the same roof as her stepmother, let alone the past day or two. The only thing that Katie could think of that might have induced Sarah to do such a thing was Toby. Katie knew that Sarah loved her little brother to distraction, and if he had asked her to stay, Sarah might have done it.

"Well," Dr. Preston said. "She should have returned by now. She isn't here?"

"No," said Katie beginning to get worried again. Although she had found it strange to think that Karen Williams would have let Sarah spend the last thirty six hours at home, she had been willing to believe that Sarah had just become overwhelmed, or that Toby had asked her to stay. In one of those cases, Sarah might have convinced her stepmother to allow her to remain at home for a while. The fact that she had not returned to the hospital was worrying. Sarah never spent any more time in the presence of that woman than she had to.

"Hmm, I'll call Mrs. Williams to see what has kept Sarah from returning. I wouldn't worry too much at this stage. Sarah is one of my most responsible patients. Although," he hedged glancing once more into the blood spattered room where Danny had been injured, "it doesn't hurt to check."

"Thanks. Dr. Preston," Katie replied."Let me know as soon as you hear anything, would you?"

Dr. Preston waved a hand at her in dismissal. His phone was already out and he was dialing as he walked away.

Katie returned to her duties but made sure to check up on Sarah's status throughout her shift. It wasn't until her break, several hours later, that Dr. Preston found her again.

"Sarah is missing," he informed her bluntly as she sat in the breakroom, munching disinterestedly on a cracker. The man looked like hell. It hadn't been a good day for Dr. Lyle Preston. One patient badly injured and another MIA, he'll be lucky to get out of this without a lawsuit, Katie thought.

"What do you mean, missing?" she asked.

"Karen Williams said that when she woke up this morning, Sarah was gone. She made a police report immediately and Sarah has officially been listed as a missing person. They found no trace of her in the house."

Katie's mind immediately flashed to Sarah's room here in the hospital. There was something about this story that was off, but she couldn't put her finger on it. "Do they have any leads?"

"Not at this time." Dr. Preston shook his head. "I just wanted to let you know, since you asked. Were you and Sarah close?"

Katie nodded. "We were, to an extent. We chatted every morning."

The doctor grunted noncommittally and said, "I expect that the police will be around to examine her room. I'll let them know to talk to you. If you can think of anywhere that Sarah might have gone, be sure to tell them."

Suddenly, Katie realized what it had been about Sarah's room that made the story of her "disappearance" unlikely. "Thanks doc, I'll be sure to have a chat with the officers when they arrive." The doctor nodded and left the break room. Katie waited a few seconds to make sure he was on his way and then raced to Sarah's room. Hopefully she made it before the police got there.

She was in luck. The room was undisturbed, exactly as Sarah had left it two days ago. There, on the table next to the bed, was the reason that Katie was sure Sarah had not walked away of her own accord. A small, red leather book with the title embossed in gold: "The Labyrinth"

Crossing the room, Katie stopped next to the table and looked at the book closely. She had once asked Sarah why she never went anywhere without it. Sarah had told her that it was her most prized possession.

_Sarah smiled at the inquiry, her eyes taking on a far away look. "It led me to my greatest adventure... and put me in here," she had said cryptically. "I don't think I could give it up for anything, in spite of everything that's happened to me because of it."_

Katie hadn't understood any of Sarah's explanation, except that the book was somehow very important to her. Now, standing in Sarah's abandoned room after her encounter with, whatever that had been, in Danny's room, Katie was somehow sure that Sarah had been telling the literal truth about the book. She would never have left this book behind. The fact that she had not returned for it meant that something had happened to Sarah, something bad. After this morning's encounter in Danny's room, Katie was more than willing to entertain the possibility that Sarah was as sane as she was herself.

For a moment, Katie hesitated, knowing that she could get fired for what she was about to do. Telling herself that she was only borrowing it, Katie reached out and grabbed the book. The moment her hand touched it, she got a tremendous shock and her whole hand went numb. Repressing a yelp at the sensation, Katie shook her hand and glared at the book that had ended up on the floor when she dropped it. "I just want to find Sarah," she muttered, feeling stupid for talking to a book.

Cautiously, Katie reached out again, expecting another shock. This time, she picked the book up without any serious consequences. All the hair on her body felt like it was standing on end, but there were no major shocks or other off putting reactions. Taking a deep breath, Katie turned and left the room, book warm in her hand. As she hurried to the locker room, she saw two police officers talking to another nurse down the hall. She had grabbed the book just in time.

Katie was sure that Sarah needed help. She was equally sure that the book should be in Sarah's hands, and no one else's. Her superstitious grandmother had always insisted that Katie was "gifted" with the sight, and that it was just waiting to come out. Until now, she had believed none of it. Never before had she had such a strong feeling about something. As she entered the locker room and tucked the book into the pocket of her raincoat, Katie supposed that she was having what her grandmother would have called a premonition. Whatever it was, Katie was going to find Sarah and make sure that this book was returned to her. For some reason, it was vital that Sarah was safe and in possession of the book. She had to find Sarah. The first place Katie planned to look was in the home of Karen Williams.

* * *

Shaylee stood, with Lord Gethin and his daughter, in the Wood Elf King's office. It had taken her two days to set up this meeting with her fellow monarch. Yesterday, the council had met again. Beginning shortly after breakfast and continuing until well after dark, the Fairy Queen had been cloistered in the council chamber with the rest of the rulers. The time had seemed interminable to Shaylee, and she had frequently found herself staring out the window, thinking about her plan to build a summer palace near the sea.

Shaylee thought about the little bit of the meeting that she could remember. Diermuid had pushed for an inquiry into the state of the Labyrinth. The Fairy Queen had been amused at the way Cieran had twisted and turned, trying to get out of it. Eventually, the High King had succeeded, but Diermuid was sure to bring it up again. Then, there were hours of talks about the raids. She had tuned most of that out. None of it impacted her kingdom or her subjects. The Council had also discussed sending another round of emissaries to the Troll Protectorates and the Centaur Territories. Privately, Shaylee thought that was a waste of time. Neither race seemed to be very keen on being brought back into the fold, so to speak. Why force them?

The meeting ended with several hours of strategizing by Cieran and the rulers of the northern and eastern realms. Endless discussions about bivouac areas, refugees, field hospitals, and troop movements had made her feel impossibly dull. Shaylee had caught herself nodding off several times during the latter part of the discussions. Just the memory made her want to fall asleep again. She could think of far more enjoyable ways to have spent the day yesterday. She licked her lips as she thought about it. Oh my yes, there were far better ways to spend the time. Unfortunately, even if she had been able to come up with an excuse to skip the meeting, Gethin would have reminded her that she was neglecting her duties. He insisted that she must be present for any important discussions that might affect their kingdom. He was constantly telling her that, in order to do his duties as her advisor, he needed to know everything.  _Really though_ , she thought, _if he finds the meetings to be so interesting he could attend them himself for all I care. Anything is better than having to sit through all that nonsense!_

Eventually, the meeting had ended and she was released. She had rushed back to her beloved Gethin, only to have him ask her question after question about the meeting. He was most unhappy that she was unable to answer most of his questions. Gethin had gotten outright angry when she had told him that she had not yet been able to speak to Diermuid. He apologized afterwards, of course, telling her that he was just stressed about the looming war and the need to secure the future of the Underground. If she wasn't so incredibly in love with him, then she probably would have dismissed him from her service for the way he spoke to her. She smiled dreamily at the way he had chosen to prove his remorse. She could forgive him anything. She glanced over at him as he spoke to Diermuid about marrying his brat off to Jareth.  _It might have been amusing to have been the next High Queen, but-_

"Do you agree with this, Shaylee?" Diermuid's voice cut through her inner monologue. She looked at the Wood Elven King, blinking rapidly. Overdressed as usual, she thought with a mental snort. His cream colored tunic was heavily stitched with multicolored embroidery at the sleeves, hem and neck. His silver belt was more ostentatious than fine. He wore royal blue leggings underneath the embroidered tunic and had a long sleeved tunic of the same shade under the cream one. He wore a silver circlet at his brow. The circlet was designed to look like leaves and Shaylee had nearly laughed at the sight when they had first entered the room. It looked like something that Mirima should have been wearing during a grand gala, not something she would expect to see a man wearing on an average morning.

She kept all of these thoughts to herself. There was nothing to be gained by antagonizing him, and much to be lost. She and Gethin had been extremely careful to keep their romance a secret. It wouldn't do for Diermuid to get miffed by a slight and decide that he needed to dig up some dirt on her. "Of course I do, Diermuid. I wouldn't have brought them here if I didn't," she said tartly.  _The man is such a pompous ass,_  she thought.

"I must admit that I am surprised," Diermuid said to them. "I had not considered that you might have had someone in mind when you suggested finding a wife for the Crown Prince, Shaylee. May I ask how long you have been considering this?"

Shaylee nearly rolled her eyes but stopped when she noticed Gethin shifting his weight in her direction. She glanced at him in time to see a muscle in his cheek twitch. Gathering herself she looked back to Diermuid and lied, "It had been some time since I first began to consider the matter."

"Really?" His eyebrows rose as he looked at her in disbelief. Shaylee ground her teeth slightly to keep from saying something unfortunate. Diermuid's prejudice extended further than the humans. She wondered how Mirima put up with his chauvinism.

"Of course," she said sweetly. "The matter of the succession is of gravest importance to us all."

"Hmm. Indeed," Diermuid said. Again, Shaylee saw Gethin shift his weight out of the corner of her eye. The way he stood let her know that he was not happy with the direction that the conversation was going. She tried to head Diermuid off.

"I can't see that there is much to be gained by a lengthy search," she said. She clenched her hands in her skirts as she spoke again. "Surely one wife is as good as another?" She hated herself the moment the words left her mouth. Pandering to Diermuid's sense of masculine superiority left a nasty taste in her mouth. Then, she saw Gethin's slight nod of approval from her right. Shaylee felt him just barely brush her arm with the back of his hand, and suddenly, it didn't matter anymore.

Diemuids mouth turned up in a slight smile. "That is very true, but I had been considering a list of eligible women who come from some of the most prominent families in the Underground. I would hate to have anyone feel slighted by a lack of consideration."

Shaylee narrowed her eyes. "The most prominent families? Has it crossed your mind that Jareth is already one of the most powerful men in the Underground? And here you are, looking to unite him to one of the daughters of those powerful families? Seems to me like you are about to cut your nose off to spite your face."

She mentally congratulated herself on the cleverness of her argument when she saw the smug look of superiority falter, but it was only for an instant. A moment later, the conceited look was back and she knew that her ploy had failed. Shaylee was aware that she was playing with fire while eluding to Diermuid's thirst for power. This game was dangerous when played against such an opponent, but Gethin wanted his daughter married to Jareth, which meant that she wanted it as well. She glanced over to her right again, attempting to gauge her lover's reaction. His face was a stoic mask, denying her the ability to assess his mood at this particular juncture.

Diermuid leaned forward and put his elbows on his desk. He steepled his fingers and looked at her shrewdly, his head cocked to the side. "Why should I wish to limit the power of the High Crown?" he asked slyly. "Could it be that you have… ambitions... that would be served by seeing this girl put on the throne?" He gestured to Belinda and Shaylee felt her face whiten as he turned her own argument back against her.

Her mind whirled and Shaylee struggled to come up with a suitable response that would both assert her lack of ambition as well as flatter Diermuid back into a good mood. Before she could say anything, Diermuid spoke again, "I will be happy to add this young lady to the list of eligible women, but I think that I will make the final decision myself, based on the merits of each one."

Realizing that she had lost, Shaylee struggled to save face. "I will send you a list of my own recommendations then, to add to your list." She inclined her head slightly at Diermuid and he did the same. Belinda curtseyed elegantly to the Wood Elven King and the entire party waited for Gethin to pay his respects before leaving. To their shock, he did no such thing.

"I will speak with you alone, Diermuid," he said in a commanding tone.

Diermuid stood and narrowed his eyes at her chief advisor. Then he turned to Shayee. "It appears that your underling could use a few lessons in manners," he informed her coldly. Shaylee's face flamed.

"I said," repeated Gethin in the same commanding tone. "I will speak with you privately." Diermuid's eyes were instantly dragged back to Lord Gethin's. Shaylee watched as his face went slack. Shaylee couldn't see her lover's face but she knew the look that was likely to be on it. It had been directed at her more than a few times.

Diermuid's face regained some of it's animation and he turned to the Shaylee. "Forgive me, Shaylee, but it appears that Lord Gethin and I have something important to discuss. Why don't you and Lady Belinda wait outside while we finish our conversation."

"Yes, Shaylee, take my daughter with you and wait out in the other room," Gethin said, glancing quickly at her. As his eyes passed over her, she felt a momentary chill. Those were not the blue eyes of her lover. There was something dark and… dead... about them. The moment passed as quickly as it had come and she was once again looking into the piercing blue eyes of her Chief Advisor. She smiled, all thoughts of the darkness she had seen moments ago had vanished, as though they had never been.

"Of course, gentlemen," she said. She turned to Belinda. "Come my dear, let's leave the men to their discussion.

Shaylee and Belinda exited the room and found chairs in the adjoining salon. Belinda was a silent girl of about two hundred. She had kept her hazel eyes downcast for the entirety of their interview with Diermuid, and seemed almost afraid to be noticed by the men. Shaylee had always found her to be rather dull. The girl never seemed to notice the eligible bachelors who routinely flocked to her court in the hopes of becoming the Fairy King. While Shaylee herself had no intention of taking a husband, she happily entertained nearly every single one of those hopefuls. That was, of course, before she had begun her relationship with Gethin.

It was odd, though, that in all the time that Shaylee had been aware of her existence, not once had Belinda's name been linked to that of one of those eligible young men who flocked to her court. She wasn't unattractive, in fact, she was rather the opposite. Shaylee supposed that Gethin had kept her on a rather short leash all this time to avoid sullying her reputation. It made sense if he intended to put her name forward as a possible wife for the Crown Prince. Casual dalliances were not uncommon among the unattached youngsters of the court, and virginity wasn't a prized commodity the way it used to be. It was still occasionally beneficial to be able to claim that your daughter was untouched, though. Particularly if you wanted to arrange a politically advantageous marriage, such as one that would elevate the woman in question so far above her station.

"So, Belinda, how much do you know about Jareth?" Shaylee asked, more to fill the silence than for any real desire for conversation with the girl.

"Only what is common knowledge," Belinda answered shortly, keeping her eyes trained on the far wall. "He's a man, with more than the usual amount of hubris that entails."

Shaylee chuckled. "Yes, that is certainly true of Jareth. I have heard, though, that he makes up for it in… other ways." Belinda made no reply to her blatant innuendo, save to glance down. so Shaylee continued, "I wouldn't put too much emphasis on any stories you hear about his past partners though. I'm sure that once you are married he'll be completely faithful."

Finally, Belinda looked up at the Fairy Queen. Her eyes were icy as she spoke and Shaylee was taken aback by the girls frigid tone. "It's of no consequence to me whether or not he takes several lovers."

Shaylee's jaw dropped and she stared at the girl, flabbergasted. What in the Underground is her problem? Everyone knows Jareth has a certain reputation, but most girls would be thrilled to be his wife, she thought.

Before she could continue the conversation, the door to Diermuid's private study opened and the two men came out. Shaylee was relieved to see a smile on Gethin's face. Things must have gone well.

"Well," boomed Diermuid in an unusually jovial tone. "Congratulations, my dear," He bowed to Belinda respectfully. "It appears that we have found the only possible candidate for the future High Queen and current Goblin Queen."

 


	10. The Voice

**Disclaimer:**  Yup, it's that time again. Time to remind the good people over at Jim Henson Studios that I do not currently profit from this story, nor do I intend to profit from this little story later. I'm just having a bit of fun. Please don't kick me out of your world!

A/N - Shout to Enchanted Peach Dreams for editing, ladyofshalott19, who tried, but had serious technical difficulties (and I thought I was the one who was technological kryptonite!) and my wonderful husband, who tells me my writing has improved, which is nice. The best part is that he no longer completely rips my chapters to shreds!

Hope you enjoy the Chapter. Cheers!

* * *

Jareth wiped his face on the hem of his once white tunic. He was filthy and dripping with the sweat of hard, physical labor. Instead of his customary poet's shirt, he was wearing a thin cotton tunic which left his arms bare to the shoulders. He had tamed his usually wild blonde mane with a leather thong that held most of it back at the nape of his neck. Jareth wore heavy leather gloves that were grimy with sweat and dirt, foregoing the fine gloves he generally wore. The Goblin King gazed at the scene around him. Over the past few days, Jareth worked himself to the point of complete exhaustion, repairing the damage that his neglect had caused throughout the Labyrinth. He and several work crews were nearly finished with the innermost ring now. Jareth estimated that they would be moving into the second sector by the next day. It was exhausting work, and he had not realized the extent of the problems they would be facing during the repairs.

Although he recruited several others who were magically talented to help him with the repairs, their magic was limited to simpler tasks, like squaring off blocks, carrying heavy loads and magically mixing mortar. Unlike Jareth, they weren't able to directly affect the Labyrinth with magic. They were only able to fashion the pieces that would go into repairing it. Once it was time for those pieces to become part of the Labyrinth, the other mages could no longer be of help. Nothing save physical labor, combined with the magic of its ruler, could alter the Labyrinth. Since the day after he had brought Sarah back to the Underground, Jareth had spent an inordinate amount of time feeding magic into the Labyrinth, encouraging it to accept the repairs that were being made by crews of workers. It was time consuming and exhausting, both magically and physically. He had actually done an incredible amount of work over the past few days. He had to keep busy to keep from tearing his realm apart.

_The morning after he had finally told Ethan the story of how Sarah had triumphed over the Labyrinth, Jareth had been sitting in his office, nursing one hell of a hangover. Andris had always warned him to be careful with dwarven spirits. They seemed benign enough when you drank them, but they made your head hum like a swarm of bees the next morning. He had been wondering whether or not it was wise to eat something when Ethan came striding into the room, looking far too alert and healthy for Jareth's taste._

_Without preamble and with, Jareth felt, far too little consideration for his current condition, Ethan had gotten right to the point. "There's a problem, Jareth."_

_Jareth groaned, "I'm sure there is. Do you have to talk so loud?"_

_Ethan rolled his eyes and plunked a glass down on Jareth's desk. "Here. This is from the healer. I thought you might need this."_

_With a sigh, Jareth picked up the glass. Taking a sip, he grimaced at the taste but continued to drink the foul concoction. It tasted worse than the hangover felt, but it was a far faster and more reliable way of getting rid of the effects of too much drink. Raising an eyebrow as he began to feel the effects of the potion, Jareth eyed his friend over the rim of the cup and asked, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this morning?"_

_"We have a problem," Ethan repeated._

_"I heard that the first time. What is it this time? Has something else collapsed in the night?" Jareth winced as he spoke. He had meant it as a joke, but it was completely possible that something had indeed collapsed. He would have to begin repairs this afternoon, right after he found out who was acting as his personal secretary these days. With a sigh, he drained the cup and placed it on the desk in front of him before turning his attention to Ethan once more._

_"I can't find the girl."_

_"What?" Jareth stood so quickly that his chair hit the wall behind him. All thoughts of his still aching head were forgotten. "What do you mean you can't find her? I hardly think she'd go anywhere but toward the city."_

_"Still, I can't seem to locate her." Ethan shrugged and strode to the window, throwing back the musty curtains and letting in the morning sun. Jareth winced as the bright light washed over him. "She wasn't anywhere near the rusalkas pond last night. The rusalka told me that she had entered the Labyrinth."_

_"Did you search the Labyrinth?"_

_"The immediate area, yes. I went out again this morning. There was no sign of her."_

_Jareth conjured a crystal, once again attempting to see Sarah. When it showed him nothing but swirling fog, he dropped it on his desk in disgust and began to pace. He waved a hand and an intricate, three dimensional map of the Labyrinth materialized, on the surface of his desk._

_"I searched for Hoggle and Didymus this morning to see if they could give me any information. Hoggle is the current guardian of that area, and Didymus is a well known associate of Hoggle, and you said he knows the girl -"_

_"Sarah! Her name is Sarah," Jareth ground out. He glared at Ethan._

_Recovering quickly, Ethan continued in a nonplussed manner. "Yes, well, I'm afraid I haven't been able to locate either Hoggle or Sir Didymus…" Ethan trailed off as Jareth turned away, focusing on the map rather than on his General._

_"Here," Jareth gestured to a fairly straight and easy pathway that ran nearly straight from the door nearest the Rusalka's pond to the castle. "I opened this corridor yesterday afternoon, after I left her alone."_

_He looked up at Ethan and noticed his disbelieving look. Jareth glowered. "I'm not a monster and I have no wish to see her suffer," he stated. "I just want to help her and then get her out of my life before she turns it upside down again!"_

_Returning to his perusal of the map, Jareth completely missed the skeptical look that Ethan shot him. Jareth looked at the map for several seconds before gesturing again. "You search along this path, I'll look along the most obvious route. We will meet back here at lunchtime." He pinned his General with a cold stare. He had not forgotten Ethan's suspicions about Sarah. "Should you find her, send a message to me immediately."_

A tug at his sleeve, brought Jareth back to the present. Gratefully accepting the flask of water that the little goblin held out for him, Jareth drank deeply. There had been no sign of Sarah in the last couple of days, despite the efforts of an increasingly large search party. Just this morning, Jareth had instructed Ethan to begin searching the outer reaches of the realm. The towns and communities that existed beyond the two mile border around the Labyrinth were reachable on foot from the walls. It was possible that Sarah, in her stubborn pride, had simply decided to walk away from the Labyrinth altogether, not realizing that his realm was far larger than the bounds of the Great Maze itself. Once again, he cursed himself for leaving her alone. He should have handled the situation differently.

Jareth returned the dripping flask to the waiting goblin and watched as the creature scuttled off to the next worker, a dwarven mason who was supervising the placement of the last row of blocks on the wall in front of him. Jareth was pleased with their progress so far. He looked around, observing the other workers. Not far away, a new hire, an elf who called himself Leo, was working on smoothing out the uneven ground in advance of a party of human workers who were laying new cobblestone. Jareth remembered the elf because the lanky worker was missing half an ear. He claimed he lost it in a work related accident, but Jareth suspected a tavern brawl was more likely the truth.

Behind the human workers came a party of gnomes overseen by a dryad. They were usually hard at work in the castle gardens. Jareth had co-opted them, and put them to work out in the Labyrinth proper. They were tending to the vegetation in the Labyrinth. Generally, the guardians took care of the vegetation, but the guardians were all too few in number these days. Jareth shook his head in sorrow. It seemed that no matter what he did, there always seemed to be more that needed to be done in the Labyrinth, just to keep it up. He had often wished that he was able to make improvements, but there was never the time, money, or workers to accomplish such a thing.

Squinting up at the blazing sun to check the time of day, Jareth returned to his thoughts on the search and considered what he should do next. He had already attempted to speak to that rusalka, only to find that she was apparently not in residence at her pond. At the very least, she refused to even come to the surface if he was present. He would get no help there. Her actions seemed to prove Ethan's theory that she knew more about what had happened to Sarah than she was willing to tell.

Striding to the edge of the area that currently crawled with workmen, Jareth looked out into the section of the Labyrinth that had not yet undergone any major repairs. It was certainly a mess. Dead vegetation littered the ground and walls, several of which had collapsed, blocking passages entirely. It was going to take days to get the mess cleaned up to the point that the workers could even begin the repairs.

With a sigh of resignation, Jareth prepared once more to sink his consciousness into the magic that governed the Labyrinth He was distracted by a rising pandemonium in the next passageway over. Groaning at the unaccustomed stiffness in his muscles from the past few days of work, Jareth made his way around the wall undergoing repairs to see what the problem was. What he actually saw brought him up short.

A large sinkhole seemed to be opening, right in the middle of the Labyrinth. There were screams and cries as goblins and hired workers alike slid into the gaping hole that had appeared under them. Panicked cries could be heard from the bottom of the pit. Stepping back away from the edge, Jareth magically reached for his connection to the Labyrinth, sending an inquiry about what was happening. The answer that came back was not comforting. This entire subterranean section of the Labyrinth was unstable.

Opening his eyes once more, Jareth began shouting orders. "Back! Get everyone back. This section is going to collapse!" He pointed to a group of human workers who were standing nearby. "You, get ready to help evacuate the area!"

Looking around for someone to send back to the castle, he spied a small goblin who was known to be fast. The poor thing was shaking in fear as it gaped at the hole that had opened nearly at its feet. Jareth nudged the goblin with his foot and yelled, "You, get back to the castle and find the healer." When the little goblin just gaped at him, Jareth wasn't sure if he had been heard over the yells of the people and the crashing of rock. Jareth sighed and barked, "Go! Get Alex! Now!"

There was a general scramble as those working in the area dropped what they were doing. The goblins immediately took flight, leaving the others who had been working on the repairs standing there in confusion. Jareth groaned in frustration. Goblins were nearly indestructible, but not very intelligent. The dwarves, elves, humans and other creatures that he had working here today were far more likely to be injured than the goblins, yet it was the goblins who were the first to flee! Luckily, the little goblins themselves only made up a small portion of his subjects and very rarely strayed beyond the borders of the Labyrinth itself.

He waved his hand, indicating that all those who were left should gather around him. Once several gnomes, humans, and the elf were near enough to hear him, he said, "I'm going to have to begin magical repairs on the subsurface sections of the Labyrinth immediately. I will start with the area around the cave in. As soon as the area looks stable, I want a you all to mount a rescue operation for those who have fallen into the sinkhole."

He waited only long enough to see the nods and looks of comprehension on the faces of those around him before he strode back toward the collapsed section of earth. Looking the area over, Jareth decided that the safest route to the bottom was to transport. If he tried to make his way through the rubble, he was likely to dislodge even more of the loose material, sending it crashing down on the heads of those who were now trapped at the bottom. Drawing on the magic around him, he disappeared from the edge of the hole. When he reappeared at the bottom, Jareth was quickly mobbed by several goblins and workers who had managed to escape injury in the collapse.

"Your Majesty!" one man gasped, a bloody gash on his face leaving a red streak on his temple. "My brother, he's trapped under a pile of rock!"

"Help will be coming," Jareth assured the man calmly. "I must ensure that the area is stable enough for the workers to get to you all. Stay here and remain calm."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," the man said, relief evident on his face. The others echoed his thanks and stepped back respectfully.

Closing his eyes, Jareth once again felt for his connection to the Labyrinth. When he was certain of where the greatest danger of imminent collapse was, he opened himself up to the free magic that floated throughout the Underground. Pulling it toward himself, he channeled it into the Labyrinth, using his body as the conduit. At his urging, the sleepy entity that was the Labyrinth absorbed the magic he was feeding it and began to repair the damage that threatened to cause another collapse.

The damage was far more extensive than it ought to have been for only six years without repairs. In his many years as king here in the Labyrinth, Jareth had never seen this kind of damage. The subterranean supports seemed to have been eroded, causing the foundations of the Labyrinth to collapse. The damage seriously threatened the final defenses around the city itself. The implications left Jareth cold, but he pushed the thought away. He had to focus. He was channeling more magic than he ever had before. He couldn't afford to be distracted.

The further Jareth pushed his awareness, the more damage he found. The entire subterranean Labyrinth was undermined and in danger of collapse. Layer after layer had been systematically weakened; stones crushed to powder and walls picked apart, brick by brick. Jareth was sick with the realization of what had almost happened. His preoccupation with his personal problems had nearly caused the destruction of the Labyrinth itself.

He opened the channel between the magic and the Labyrinth even wider. Raw power poured through him, scorching his nerve endings as it went. He pushed the pain aside and reached out once more to the nebulous awareness of the Labyrinth itself. "Help me!" he pleaded. "I cannot do this alone!"

_Deep under the Labyrinth, something stirred. Pricked into semi-wakefulness by the desperate plea of the King, it attempted to gather the many facets of its awareness together. Most of them joined easily with the greater whole, but there were some that remained separate. They were preoccupied with another task, perhaps the most important task they had undertaken since the building of the Labyrinth itself. A call from the King, no matter how panicked that call might be, paled in comparison._

_Without all the pieces, the entity could not form a cohesive whole. Fractured, it could not cross into full wakefulness, no matter how desperate the pleas of the King were. Instead, it cast its many glittering fragments out again, over the whole of the Labyrinth, searching for the source of the despair it could feel coming through the connection it shared with the King. When it had seen enough, the shards of awareness flooded back together and turned their attention to the King once more._

**"Seek the Airíoch!"**

Jareth staggered as the force of the Labyrinth's reply hit him. It was a shocking sound. It was at once one voice and many, both male and female. It came as a quiet whisper and a piercing shriek. Never before had the Labyrinth actually spoken to him. Communication between them had always been in dreamlike flashes of visions and feelings.

Pushing back against the pain of the magic that still flowed through him, Jareth replied to the voice that had boomed over the whole Labyrinth. "Where? That line is extinct. I am the caretaker now!"

"You are the  _King!_ " The multi toned voice spoke in his head now, quieter this time. "Seek the Airíoch. Find the descendants of William the Wise…" The oddly choral voice was fading away.

Once more Jareth reached out, seeking the fast fading the connection. "Where? Where do I find a family that has been missing for thousands of years!?"

The strange awareness that Jareth had briefly felt was gone, replaced by the usual dreamy acknowledgment of his presence from the Labyrinth. He brought his mind back from that deeper connection to the comparatively shallow presence of the physical Labyrinth. As he did so, Jareth was sharply reminded of the amount of magic he was channeling by the wave of pain that hit him. Drawing in a sharp breath, he tensed himself against the agony of the raw magic flooding through him and checked on the progress of the repairs. To his surprise, the subterranean passages beneath the immediate area were once again sound and the sinkhole which he had previously been standing in had disappeared.

Now he struggled, not to use the magic to repair the damaged Labyrinth, but to slow the massive amounts of magic that were flooding through him. Slowly, Jareth began to close the channel that he had opened, cutting off the flow of magic. As he did so, he became aware of the presence of others around him, shouting.

"Jareth! Jareth, stop! You're going to kill yourself!" Ethan was screaming somewhere off to his right. Other voices were also screaming.

"Stop, Your Majesty!"

"We can do the rest yer Majesty! Please stop!"

"Oye, the Magic's gonna burn 'im to a crisp it will!"

"Somebody send a message to the High King!" Jareth heard Ethan bellow, just as he finally managed to cut off the flow of magic and bring it back under control.

"No," Jareth managed to rasp out, a wisp of steam trailing from his mouth before he fell to the ground. His clothing was scorched, as was his hair. The sudden lack of magic was nearly as disconcerting as the full flow had been. Staring down at the dirt under him, Jareth rose to his hands and knees and shook his head. Sweat began to run down his face in rivulets to soak the neckline of his tunic in seconds. "Do not send for my father!" he coughed out.

Instantly, Ethan was beside him. The General reached out to try and help him rise, only to snatch his hand back as the heat radiating from the Goblin King singed his hand. "Water!" he screamed to the surrounding onlookers before turning back to Jareth.

"What happened?" Jareth asked as he staggered to his feet. He very much regretted forgetting to protect himself from the consequences of channeling that much magic. He had not made that mistake since he was a child. Several buckets of water were flung over him and Jareth sighed in relief as his overheated form began to cool. He was lucky that he had not needed to focus the magic or he would surely be nursing more scars.

"What do you mean, what happened? I should be asking you that! When I got here, everyone was screaming and you were surrounded by free magic. Where in the seven hells did that voice come from?" Ethan was clearly upset but Jareth waved him away. Taking a few more heaving breaths, Jareth straightened.

"Not here," Jareth told Ethan, gathering his wits together. Jareth looked around at the workers who were still standing around gaping. "Did everyone get out? Is anyone hurt?"

"No one is missing." The dwarven mason approached cautiously. "When the magic repaired the sinkhole, it lifted out those who were trapped and set them down on the surface. Never seen that in all my days," he muttered to himself. Jareth smiled at the gruff mason. Clearly the earthy dwarf was not very comfortable with the use of magic.

Satisfied that everyone was safe, Jareth turned to Ethan and said, "Come, we have things to discuss."

Later that afternoon, Ethan and Jareth were once again in Jareth's office and Jareth had related to his friend what had occurred between the awareness of the Labyrinth and himself. The crews of workers were still hard at work out in the Labyrinth, but Jareth was too exhausted to join them. He had managed to check on the extent of the repairs and was disappointed to find that they did not extend very far from where he had been standing when he channeled all that magic. The far reaching effects of the damage guaranteed that Jareth could pull a stunt like that once a day and still have over a month of repairs left.

Wearily, Jareth leaned against his cherrywood desk. It appeared that a cleaning crew had at least tried to go through the room, as most of the dust was gone and the curtains were missing, no doubt taken off to laundered, or ripped up for dust rags. There were still piles of paper everywhere, though.

"Haven't you found a secretary yet?" Ethan asked dryly, waving a hand at the piles of documents scattered about the office.

"I keep meaning to, but I never seem to have the time for some reason," Jareth muttered dryly, pacing around the desk to sit on the window sill that gave an unobstructed view of the Labyrinth. He was still grappling with the problem of the Labyrinth's undermining. Ethan hadn't been very helpful, although he was as upset as Jareth was over the entire thing.

"You've put out the call for more recruits, yes?" Jareth asked his military commander.

"Yes, and I raised the pay of each and every soldier as an incentive to join."

Jareth winced. That was going to be a nightmare when it was time to balance the budget. "Step up the drill and training regiments too, I don't know what is going on, but I need my army to be ready."

"You might not have been paying attention, Jareth, but I have." Ethan was testy. "There has been no lapse in training. Your army is about the only thing that is in better shape now than it was five years ago."

Whirling from the window, Jareth glared at his friend. "What, exactly, are you trying to say?"

Ethan pulled himself up to his full height and looked his king squarely in the eye. His usually warm brown eyes were hard. "You heard me. You stopped paying attention the moment that girl stepped into the kingdom. While you've been wallowing in self pity for years, some of us have been doing everything in our power to make sure you remain on your throne and in control of the kingdom."

"I don't think I care for your tone, General."

"Too bad, Your Majesty."

The two Fae stared at each other. Ethan stood tall in the center of the room and Jareth lounged on the windowsill, watching his friend with predatory eyes that belied his exhaustion. Neither one was willing to back down. If Jareth was being honest, he would have to admit that Ethan was correct and he should be thanking him for seeing to the defense of the kingdom while he had been nursing his wounded pride. He wasn't in the mood to be so generous at the moment, so he glared at his friend, wishing he could bog the man to regain the upper hand.

Finally, Ethan sighed. "Jareth, I-"

He was cut off by a knock on the door. Jareth and Ethan exchanged a glance. They had left orders that they were not to be disturbed. The look on Jareth's face promised a severe punishment for whoever had knocked, unless they had a very good reason for doing so.

Striding to the door, Ethan jerked it open quickly. Behind him, Jareth stood from his slumped seat on the windowsill. He couldn't afford to be seen as weak right now. For all he knew, the unknown enemy that had been undermining the Labyrinth was flooding his kingdom with spies. Jareth would have to speak with his spymaster as soon as he was done here. He needed to know if he would have to start jumping at shadows.

Standing on the other side of the door was one of the workers from the Labyrinth, the new one, the elf called Leo. As soon as the door opened, he had bowed and held out a rolled piece of parchment. "Apologies for the interruption," the elf stammered, shifting his weight from foot to foot and shaking his stringy hair back from his face.

Jareth moved to take Ethan's place by the door. There was something off about this particular worker, but Jareth couldn't put his finger on it. "What do you want? I gave specific orders that I was not to be disturbed. What was so important that you deemed it necessary to defy me?" Jareth's voice had a dangerous edge that matched the vicious glint in his eye as he face the wilting elf. He reached out and took the parchment the elf offered.

"I was told to bring this report to you immediately. It's the report from today's work efforts, including the cave in." The glance of the elf flickered about the office, crossing the faces of the King and General before settling on the ground at his feet.

Jareth glanced at the report and then returned his gaze to the uncomfortable looking elf in front of him. "Why didn't the foreman bring it to me as usual?"

"He was injured in the cave in today, so I volunteered to bring it while he saw the healer." Despite his earlier submissive demeanor, the elf seemed to be gaining confidence rather than losing it, as most people did when faced with Jareth's displeasure.

Ethan grunted. "I saw him earlier and he seemed fine."

Leo was surprisingly unflustered by this challenge from the kingdom's highest ranking military officer. "I only know what I was told," he said with a shrug.

Jareth looked closely at the elf and then abruptly dismissed him. "Very well, you may go." He all but slammed the door in the elven worker's face and tossed the ostensibly important parchment on the desk before turning back to Ethan. Holding up a single finger to forestall any comments from his friend, Jareth summoned a crystal and watched the elf make his way out of the castle before he spoke. "There is something about that elf that disturbs me."

Ethan nodded. "I agree. Something about his manner struck me as inauthentic."

"Hmmm." Jareth raised the crystal he still held in his right hand and peered into it again. "He appears to be on his way to a tavern. The Dancing Goblin, I believe. I will speak to the spymaster about him, and in the meantime, you have him followed. I want to know where he came from and why he is in my kingdom. Things are far too unsettled to take any chances right now. After seeing the state of the Labyrinth today, I can't afford to miss anything else."

"What about the search for the-"

Ethan broke off when he caught the glare that Jareth was sending him. With a sigh, he tried again. "What about Sarah?"

"Continue the search of course," Jareth said, as though that should have been obvious. "Finding her is no less important now than it was before. More so. I don't want her wandering around out there with the Labyrinth crumbling around her and the possibility of enemies infiltrating my kingdom." Jareth moved around the desk and sank wearily into the chair. He raked his hands through his hair and sighed deeply.

Ethan saluted Jareth smartly, his right fist held to his breast as he bowed. He turned crisply on his heel and left the office. Jareth continued to sit at his desk, considering all that he had learned that day. He would have to begin the search for the Airioch soon. He wasn't about to ignore what it said the first time the Labyrinth ever deigned to speak. He had no idea where to begin. Perhaps the library would yield some clues.

The thought of books led him once again to thoughts of Sarah and the book that she somehow had in her possession. Jareth didn't know where it had gone after Sarah had returned Above. It was just one more reason to find her. The book might have valuable information and he needed to regain it. He continued to ponder the situation but as time went by, his thoughts were less focused on the problems and more focused on Sarah herself. Finally, when all serious thought threatened to give way to daydreams, Jareth mentally shook himself and ruthlessly pushed those impossibilities aside.  _I must purge myself of these feelings,_  he thought in frustration.  _I cannot allow myself to become distracted by this little minx any longer._

Jareth stood abruptly and looked around his darkened office, wondering what he should do. He was exhausted, but he knew that sleep would only bring dreams of Sarah. He had to keep busy. Making up his mind, he left his office and headed for the library to begin his search for the long lost Caretaker of the Labyrinth.

* * *

Leofrick sat at a table along the back wall of the Dancing Goblin, nursing a mug of piss poor ale and watching the door. He had played it very close to the line earlier, standing outside the door of the king's private study and eavesdropping. So far, it looked as though he had gotten away with it. Although he was sure that both King Jareth and General Ethan were suspicious.

The risk had been more than worth it though. As long as he was able to avoid the inevitable tail that Ethan had put on him tonight, he would be able to get out of the Goblin Kingdom, with all of the information he needed. He had detected the rather inept pair of soldiers as soon as they had showed up in the common room of the inn. They tried to be discreet about their surveillance of him, but they failed miserably. They didn't have the training. No, he wasn't worried about them. He was currently playing the role of the simple worker, tired from a day of labor and enjoying a well earned mug while he listened to the taverns nightly entertainment. It was the other, more experienced men of King Jareth's intelligence service that he was hoping would not be sent to watch him until tomorrow. Hence, the reason he was watching the door. So far, there was no sign of a more sophisticated method of surveillance.

The information that he had gathered was as surprising as well as lucrative. Diermuid would nearly wet himself when he found out the state of the Labyrinth. Between that and the confirmation of the rumors about Jareth and the runner that ran six years ago, he had more than enough information to earn himself that title Diermuid promised. Now it was just a simple matter of getting out of the kingdom in one piece with the information.

He remained in the common room for another hour, putting on a show for the inept soldiers-turned-spy that Ethan had sent after him. They were human, and their brains seemed to have shrunk in direct proportion to the amount of muscle they put on. While Ethan didn't exactly share Diermuid prejudices against humans and women, he didn't really care one way or the other. He only cared about one person, himself. After he had judged that he had spent enough time to be safe, and most likely fairly drunk, considering the number of mugs he had ordered and then surreptitiously dumped into the potted fern on his right, he staggered to his feet. He bid the waitress, who had been serving him both ale and flirtatious flashes of her ample bosom all night, a fond farewell. After dropping her a frugal tip and slapping her behind familiarly, he lurched out the front door, making his way back to the barracks that Jareth had assigned him to when he signed on as a laborer in the Labyrinth.

Predictably, the soldiers followed immediately after and he muttered under his breath about their stupidity as he wended his supposedly drunken way through the dark streets of the Goblin City. If he were less concerned with getting out of here quietly, he would lure them into an alley and teach them a lesson in stealth that they wouldn't soon forget. Unfortunately, he had to curb his desires in order to make his escape later. It would be much, much harder to leave if Ethan didn't get the report that he was bedded down for the night, nice and cozy in his bunk.

So Leofrick ostensibly went to bed, and the soldiers split up. One went to report to the General, while the other settled down in the dark alley across the street from the bunkhouse to keep watch. He was a good soldier, a credit to the years of training he had received, but he was no spy. If he had been, he would have noticed the dark shadow that slipped out of the second story window after the moon had set and the night was darkest. The shadow made it's way across the roof of the building he was watching and slithered onto the roof of the adjoining building, making its way down the street by way of the rooftops until it was some distance away from the bunkhouse and it's guardian.

Early the next morning, a squad of soldiers arrived from the palace to take Leo the laborer into custody for questioning by General Ethan. They found his bunk empty and his few possessions gone. None of the other laborers in the bunkhouse could give the frustrated soldiers any information about the missing elf. When General Ethan himself showed up to ask questions he heard so many conflicting tales about the man that he gave up.

Ethan had wanted posters drawn up and distributed throughout the kingdom. By the time they hit the taverns and town halls across the Goblin Kingdom, Leofrick was well on his way to Allanar, the Wood Elven Capitol, to make his report to his employer and become very rich in the process.

* * *

Chiara was incredibly exhausted. She had been searching for her master for several days now. She had spent an entire day in that disgusting, dank cave, waiting for him to answer her call. He never appeared. Instead, he had sent her a message, or what she hoped was a message. It came to her through a dream. He had sent her such messages before, and this had the feel of his magic, dark and slimy… twisted. Chiara shuddered, she had never found it pleasant to be dream touched. To have it done by someone so vicious and depraved made her stomach turn.

She stopped for a moment to take stock of her surroundings. It had been three days of hard traveling for the little nyxie since she had overheard Naida and the Guardians talking about this mysterious Sarah. She was now in the mountains, somewhere along the ill defined border between the Dwarven Realm and the Dark Elven Kingdom. The mountain slopes were heavily forested with dark pines and twisted oak trees. She was making her way through a deep canyon where the shadows were deep and dark, even in the midday sun. She felt right at home in this environment. There were plenty of hiding places.

Hovering in midair, she utilized her incredibly sensitive ears to search for her master. He had told her that he would be with a sizeable group of orcs. Orcs, by nature, were sly, sneaking beings who could generally move with absolute silence. Most creatures wouldn't have been able to find a band of them in the thick forest. Despite this, they were no match for the hearing of a nyxie and she soon heard the telltale sounds of a large party moving on the forested slopes to the west. She reluctantly headed in that direction.

She saw the Orc sentry before he saw her, or rather before he smelled her. Orcish noses were nearly as good as those of a bloodhound. Even as tiny as she was, Chiara knew that, had she approached downwind, the Orc would likely have smelled her long before she had spotted him. He was hidden in a pile of boulders, his grey skin and wild hair providing the perfect camouflage against the rocky terrain. The only thing that gave him away was the glint of his dark eyes as they scanned the slopes around him. As soon as he laid eyes on the tiny night faery, he emerged from his hidden sentry point and brandished a wicked looking curved blade in front of her.

"Halt! Where you fly to, little nyxie?" He licked his greenish lips hungrily with a black tongue and Chiara recoiled in disgust. Orcs were not particularly squeamish about their menu. Had she encountered this one on his own, he probably would have eaten her. Especially if she had run into him in the dark.

She crossed her thin arms over her chest and bared her sharp teeth at the nasty creature. As tall as a human, the orc was far larger than she and could crush the life out of her with hardly a thought. "I have an errand here," she replied coolly, looking down her nose at him.

"That so?" The orc chuckled and stepped closer. "Hmm. Tasty looking little morsel. Perhaps I'll save my Captain and his guest the bother of dealing with such a small thing." He darted his hand out in an attempt to catch her.

Zipping back away from the offensive smelling creature, Chiara glared at him. She was always amazed that a race who had such sensitive noses could smell so bad. It never seemed to bother them, although this one smelled like an open sewer. She swallowed hard and debated whether breathing through her mouth would make it worse or not. The smell was bad enough, but if she could taste it as well, she might just gag.

Hovering just out of range of his blade, she put her hands on her tiny hips. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

He laughed. "What you gonna do about it? I'm bigger than you, little bug. If I wanna eat you, then I will. What's one more dead faery?"

"My master would be very put out. He might just be offended enough to kill you," she remarked with outward calm. Inwardly she was caught between anger and fear. This stupid brute could kill her as easily as he boasted, provided he could catch her. The one advantage she had was that she could fly. However, the bola that he had slung around his waist could easily bring her down. Orcs began training with a bola as soon as they were able to swing one. While the one worn by this particular orc only had two heavy metal balls attached to it, the best orcish warriors mastered the use of a bola with three balls. Still, this one was more than effective.

"Master, eh?" he said, eying her uncertainly for a moment before shrugging and stepping close enough to swing his sword at her again. Once more she dodged back out of the way, hissing angrily, she eyed her antagonist for a moment, sizing him up while he watched her. The lack of thought in this one's eyes made it clear that he was not the smartest orc in the mountains.

Chiara smirked as a plan popped into her head. Silently, she opened her mind and called out her master, letting him know that she was close by and that she had important information. She also let some irritation color her mental call as she told him that she was being detained by a hungry sentry.

Dropping just a little bit lower, she allowed him to edge just a little bit closer than she ordinarily would have. "If you are going to eat me, then you should at least tell me your name," she said, trying to stall him for a few minutes. She watched the blade in his hand carefully, even as she maintained her careless looking posture. She yawned dramatically when he hesitated, a look of confusion passing over his face and said, "Come on. Your name. I've grown rather tired of wandering around in the mountains anyway. Perhaps being eaten will be a relief." She waved her hands around carelessly as she spoke.

His eyes lit up when she mentioned being eaten and he grunted, "Viggu, name's Viggu, little bug." His dark eyes were locked on her and he didn't notice the sounds of others approaching.

"Well then, Viggu," she said. "Are we going to get this over with or what?" She drifted down until she was standing on the ground in front of him. She huffed and put her hands on her hips again. She was having trouble controlling her glee. She could see movement in the trees behind Viggu. Her master was approaching, and he wasn't likely to be happy. Although this was a gamble on her part as well, she was counting on the information she was bringing to get her out of any trouble she would be in with the tall Fae. It would be worth the risk of playing this little game with the orc to see the disgusting thing punished. She grinned wickedly, unable to help herself.

Viggu, was eying her in confusion. Apparently, he was a bit smarter than she had anticipated. He hesitated and said, "Why you wanna be eaten? What you playin at?" He narrowed his eyes and gripped his weapon a bit tighter. He eyed the surrounding area in suspicion just as the approaching party broke through the trees behind him. There was a deafening roar from one of the orcs coming toward them and Chiara giggled slightly as she cowered before the orc in a convincing display of fear.

"Viggu!" The tall orc who was shouting was significantly larger than the one Chiara had been playing with. Since size played a role in orcish hierarchy, this one was clearly high up in the chain of command. His coloring was different as well. He was a darker breed and his skin was a deep brown. At his side strode her master. She risked a quick glance at his face to determine his mood and was relieved to find him looking amused. It appeared that he was not displeased by her little prank.

Poor Viggu jumped at the sound of his Captain's voice. He swung around, away from the nyxie. In doing so he inadvertently gave the entire approaching party a good view of the tiny faery, artfully cowering on the ground in mock terror. He bowed low at the sight of the Fae but was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. Chiara was impressed by that. Yes, this one was definitely smarter than he looked. She almost regretted trapping him into this mess, almost.

"What's going on here?" The captain looked from the sentry, who was still bowed low before them to the nyxie, who had dropped the charade of fear and stood calmly on the ground, her arms crossed and one foot lightly tapping the ground for effect. She was in no danger now that her master had arrived, although the murderous glare that Viggu shot her indicated that she had made an enemy. She had better be careful not to stick around after delivering her message. Provided Viggu lived to the end of the day, of course.

Viggu rose from his bow and focused on his Captain. "She was comin' towards camp. Stopped her. It's my job, Captain."

The smooth voice of the Fae broke in before the Captain could reply. "I doubt you were told to eat intruders."

"She just a nyxie." Viggu said, shrugging his shoulders.

The sinister chuckle that escaped the Fae's lips made even the densest of the orcs take a step back. Chaira prudently fluttered into the air and moved out of the line of fire. She knew what her master could do if he were irritated enough. "That she is, Viggu, that she is. But, she has valuable information." He flicked a glance at her and Chiara held her breath. "At least she says she does." Chiara sighed with relief when his eyes returned to the unfortunate sentry. She really did have important information. Maybe he would let her go once she made her report.

Viggu wilted under the gaze of the dark haired Fae. Her master spoke again. "You should have granted her immediate access. You were told that I was expecting company, were you not?"

"Yes," the orc muttered sullenly. Shooting another angry glance at her. Chiara impishly stuck her tongue out at the smelly orc. She was always underestimated because of her size. Thank the fates she was smarter than most creatures she encountered, although getting caught by her master wasn't her finest moment, she admitted to herself when she thought about it.

Her master waved his hand at the orc sentry. "Have him flogged," he ordered shortly. "And curtail his rations for the next week. Nothing but water." The Fae lazily formed a nasty looking crystal. Shot through with red and black swirls of magic, gave off a nasty vibe. He lobbed it at the orc.

Viggu was immediately pinned to the ground, screaming as the magic that held him down, burning his wrists and legs. The Fae gestured to the pinned orc and said to the captain, "Proceed, the magic will dissipate when he has had enough." He then turned his attention to Chiara, "You come with me."

As she followed her master, Chiara heard the crack of the whip and glanced behind her to see the Captain standing by grimly as another orc lashed Viggu with a nasty looking whip. Viggu's screams intensified as another blow fell, ripping the leather jerkin he was wearing and drawing a bloody line across his back. Now Chiara really did feel sorry for the creature. His back would be striped with bloody lacerations and his wrists and legs burned raw before the magic her master had placed on him dissipated. She turned away and hung her head. She shouldn't have played such a trick on the orc. No matter what, no one deserved to be tortured.

Her master led her to a tent pitched in the center of an orcish encampment half a mile back in the trees. Once inside, he turned to her and hissed, "You played a dangerous game, slave. Count yourself lucky that I was amused this time."

Gulping, Chiara bowed low and murmured apologies. He waved his hand and she instantly became silent.

"Report."

"There is a girl named Sarah that has entered the Labyrinth. She is on her way to a cottage owned by someone named Diona. I believe that she is the girl who was rumored to have run the Labyrinth six years ago and won."

"Really!" He was showing more interest in this girl than he had shown in anything the entire time she had had the misfortune of being associated with him. "What else?"

"She seems to command an unusual level of loyalty from some of the creatures in the Labyrinth. The dwarflike Guardian, Hoggle, seems especially attached to her. He was willing to defy King Jareth for her, although Sir Didymus and the rock caller, Ludo were equally as keen to reach her. There was also an Unaligned rusalka named Naida that appeared to also have some sort of loyalty to the young woman."

She watched his reactions carefully as she spoke. No matter how good the information seemed to her, she had long ago learned to be careful. What seemed like positive intel had, in the past, sent her master into a rage and she had learned to be alert for the danger signs. He was displaying none of them now. In fact, the expression on his face was one that could only be described as vicious glee. He turned away from her and began to pace around the tent. "So, Jareth brought his little mortal Underground again. Interesting."

As he spoke there was a disturbance outside and the orc Captain stepped into the tent and cleared his throat respectfully. "Another visitor to see ya, my Lord."

Not looking up, he waved his hand to indicate that the orc was to let whoever it was in. The tent flap parted to reveal a beautiful looking young woman. Briefly, Chiara wondered if it could be this mysterious Sarah, but the negative vibes coming off the dark haired beauty quickly disabused her of that notion.

The succubus tossed her long hair back away from her face and faced the Fae who had finally looked up at her entrance. "Well well. What do we have here?" he purred silkily.

The succubus smiled seductively and said, "I believe I have some information that may be of some use to you," She stated. "I might be willing to part with it, for a price."

"What made you decide that the information would be valuable to me right now?" Chiara watched, unnoticed at the moment as he eyed the newcomer speculatively. Surely, he wouldn't be so stupid as to get involved with this creature! Although if he did, there was a good chance that she would be able to free herself from the invisible bonds that tethered her soul to him and made her his slave.

"I heard from some contacts that you were asking questions about any girl with a connection to a little mortal named Toby." Her voice was cool and her smile never wavered, but Chiara notice that her eyes remained hard. Whatever she wanted, she was not going to part with the information she had unless her price was met.

"You have my attention." His icy blue eyes were locked on her flawless face and he returned her smile. "What will this information cost me?"

"Nothing that you will be unwilling to give," she said. "I wish to join you, provided I am given free reign to go where I please and feed on whomever I please."

"A daughter of Lilith wishes to join me, I'm flattered," he replied. "Very well. I grant your request. He formed another crystal of evil magic and prepared to toss it at the woman but she held up her hand to stop him.

"No. I'm not stupid. I will not be bound like that little Nyxie. My mother would be most… displeased. I join you freely, or not at all. Refuse me and I will keep my information."

He laughed outright. "Very well." The magic disappeared. "What information do you have for me?"

With a triumphant smile the Succubus said, "The girl is called Sarah and she does indeed have a little brother named Toby."

"What makes you think that this is the girl I seek?"

She gave him a scathing glare and continued. "The girl of whom I speak has powers. The idiot mortals Aboveground think her mad, but she can see me. She sees all creatures from the Underground as easily as you or I can. She has even been able to banish me with her will alone!"

His eyebrows shot up at this description. "Very interesting," he said again. "Anything else?"

"Her last name is Williams," she stated flatly.

This brought him up short and he stared at her in shock. "Are you certain?"

The succubus smiled icily. "Of course I'm sure. She also had something near her that reeked with the magic of the Labyrinth." She made a disgusted face and continued. "It appears that she has gone missing. There is one, a nurse Above, who seems to be some sort of medium or clairvoyant or something. She saw me today. I believe her to be friendly with this Sarah. I was keeping an eye on her today to see if she would be a problem. I didn't expect to be seen. Whatever item the Williams woman carried, is now in the hands of that nurse, Katie Byrne."

"Sarah is Underground," he told the succubus. "At long last, the line of Caretakers has been found." He bared his teeth in a humorless grin.

"Your information has been most valuable. Consider yourself free to go where you please. I will not stop you and I, or my associates, will come to your aid, should you find yourself entangled in something you wish to avoid."

Her eyes glowed with gratitude and dark lust. "My thanks, I shall speak to my sisters and see if they, too, are interested in joining me. If you ever find yourself… lonely… don't hesitate to call on me."

I'm flattered," he said drily. "But I have other plans. I intend to have this Sarah as my queen. I will find her, and break her to my will. I will control her power over the Labyrinth and use it to wrest the kingdom from that usurper, Jareth."

Her eyebrows rose and she smiled wickedly. "Such aspirations. Still, if you find yourself lonely in the meantime…"

He took her hand in his and bowed over it, pressing his lips to her knuckles. "Rest assured, my Lady, I will call upon you should the urge strike me."

With a small curtsey and a murmur, "My Lord," she exited the tent, leaving Chiara once again alone with her master.

He sat in silence for a minute or two before turning his attention back to her. "Go and keep watch over Sarah," her master ordered. He formed a crystal, and brought up the image of a cozy little cottage at the edge of the southern forest in the Labyrinth. The Fae held it out so that Chiara could see the image inside. "Here is Diona's cottage. I will gather a force and make a raid into the Labyrinth to retrieve the girl. You make sure that my bride is there when I come to collect her."

With that he tossed the crystal at her and Chiara found herself in the forest that she had been looking at in the crystal. Her master, the tent and the orc encampment were nowhere to be seen. Night had fallen and across an open meadow, there was the glimmer of lights from the windows of the cottage. Cursing under her breath at the suddenness of the transportation, Chiara made her way toward the light. She was relieved to be away from the twisted Fae once again, but bitterly disappointed that she still had not earned her freedom, despite her success.  _Perhaps,_  she thought, _once he acquires Sarah, he will let me go._


	11. Titles and Authority

**Disclaimer** : While there are many things that actually are my intellectual property in this chapter, I cannot claim the best pieces. Such a pity. Anything recognizable from the original movie belongs to Jim Henson Studios, and I humbly thank them for letting us all play in their world!

* * *

  **Pronunciation Guide / Glossary -**  I generally don't need one of these, but it is appropriate for this chapter.

*Croí Foinse - pronounced Kree Fwin-she (short e on the end)

*hoden - Dwarven term for testicles (also German, for those in the know!)

* * *

Several nights after making his escape from the Goblin Kingdom, Leofrick lounged in a chair in Diermuid's private study. Grinning wickedly, Leofrick had presented himself to the guards outside the palace of the Wood Elf King and told them that Diermuid was expecting him. Leofrick expected to be told to move off, but apparently, what he said had actually been true because he was brought through the palace at a surprisingly rapid pace, despite the late hour. Now, he was waiting in the ostentatiously decorated room for the Wood Elven King to make his appearance. The entire room was done in greens and browns. The gold accents nearly overpowered the senses. The heavy oak furniture was inlaid with gold strips, and the walls were covered with a green and gold paper in a leaf pattern. The chair in which he lounged was a plain, green velvet affair with gold inlay on the arms and legs. The entire room emanated wealth. From the finely stitched tapestries that dripped with gold and silver thread to the crystal chandelier overhead, the entire room was meant to remind visitors of the wealth and power of the owner. Leofrick looked decidedly out of place in his well worn clothing, but he wasn't impressed by his surroundings.

Diermuid entered the study with little fanfare. He had obviously been asleep when the guards told him of the Leofrick's arrival. This was the first time that Leofrick had seen the usually well kept king look anything other than completely put together. He found it amusing. Diermuid was dressed in a serviceable tunic and leggings. Instead of the ponytail at the back of his neck, his hair hung loose and slightly mussed, as though he hadn't taken the time to properly brush it out before hurrying down to his office. Leofrick repressed a chuckle at how much Diermuid was giving away by his rapid response to the presence of the spy. For courtesy's sake, Leofrick rose when the monarch entered the room. He briefly considered remaining where he was, just to drive home the point that he wasn't all that impressed with his employer. At the last second, he decided against antagonizing Diermuid. Although his information was of the highest quality, he decided that it was better not to antagonize the touchy elf until he had his title securely under his belt.

"Well?" Diermuid snapped at him when they had both seated themselves on couches in the center of the room. "What brings you to my door so late at night?"

Leofrick raised his eyebrows at the king's tone and remained silent for a few seconds. He stared steadily at Diermuid, but the king surprised him, refusing to look away first. When the staring contest drew out long enough to become uncomfortable for both parties, Leofrick cleared his throat loudly and said, "I have the information that you were looking for."

"So soon?" Diermuid asked in surprise. "Did you get… all of it?"

Leofrick glared at him for a moment before scoffing. "Have you ever known me to return with the job only half finished? Of course I got all of it." Diermuid leaned forward eagerly, but Leofrick held up a hand to forestall the question that he knew would come next. "Before I give out the information that you are asking for, I want to remind you of our bargain."

"Yes, yes," Diermuid said, waving his hand to dismiss the idea quickly. "A position at court, full title, manor house, lands and independent income. All yours if you managed to get me the information I seek." The King was practically salivating at the thought of getting this information. Eagerness was evident in every line of his body as he waited to hear what Leofrick had been able to dig up. Leofrick nearly laughed out loud at the sight but kept his face calm. Now was the time for business. Amusement at the king's expense could come later.

"I want to see it... in writing." He kept himself calm and unruffled in the face of Diermuid's obvious excitement. Diermuid frowned at the delay but rose and moved to his desk. He shuffled around several stacks of paper until he found several that bore the royal seal of the Wood Elven Kingdom. He brought them over to the seating area and dropped them on the table in front of Leofrick.

Casually, the lanky elf reached forward and lifted the papers while Diermuid began to pace back and forth between the desk and the sitting area. "I trust the lands and income meet with your approval," Diermuid said drily.

The official title on the paperwork said 'Chief Intelligence Officer' and Leofrick raised his eyebrows. Looking over at Diermuid, he said, "Are you serious?"

Diermuid stopped pacing and folded his arms across his chest defensively. "What?"

"Chief Intelligence Officer? Do you think that's cute?" He ground his teeth and glared at the king.

"No, I think it's practical." Diermuid jabbed his finger in the direction of the papers. "That gives you an official reason to be a member of my court and free reign to go where you please within my realm. It also gives you diplomatic immunity elsewhere. With this, you are, for all intents and purposes, untouchable."

Leofrick cocked an eyebrow and continued his perusal of the documents he had in his hands. The manor house and lands that were attached were generous, as was the figure quoted as the annual income for the position. He knew the area the estate was located in by reputation. It was in the southern portion of the kingdom, not far from the main highway that ran through that area. He would be a very rich man, should he accept the title. He considered the title itself and the reasoning that Diermuid gave for bestowing it on him. It appeared that Diermuid did not intend to let him retire. He supposed that it was a practical move for both of them. He had previously been paid well for his skills; it would be a shame to let them go to waste. The only thing that was going to change was that he would no longer need to seek employers, and the compensation for this was handsome. Honestly, he had expected Diermuid to grant him some bullshit title and a backwoods manor. He considered whether or not he wanted to accept this. The offer far exceeded his expectations, which made him suspicious. He searched the paperwork for any hidden clauses, contracts or nasty surprises. Other than the standard requirement of an oath of fealty and service to his king, there was nothing required of him at all. He was surprised. Diermuid had a reputation for screwing people over.

When he was unable to find anything to object to in the documents, he tossed them negligently back down on the table and sat back in the chair. Leofrick kept his face carefully blank as he looked at Diermuid, knowing that it would keep the fussy monarch off balance while he thought his way through the ramifications of the step he was about to take. Finally, the spy concluded that the offer was genuine, and the terms acceptable. Should Diermuid decide to take advantage of him later… well… he fingered the handle of the dagger strapped to his thigh, there were always ways to deal with it when the time came.

"Well?" Diermuid snapped in irritation. "Does it all meet with your approval? I clearly kept my end of the bargain; now give me the information!"

Leofrick remained silent for a few more heartbeats, just for good measure. After this, he would no longer be a free agent. He was about to trade his freedom for a lucrative title, and he wanted to savor his last few moments of being beholden to no one but himself. In addition, he wanted to drive home the fact that Diermuid might become his liege lord in the next few minutes, but he would never own him.

"The Labyrinth is falling apart," he began. Diermuid quickly resumed his seat on the settee across from the elf and steepled his fingers in front of his face as he listened.

"Go on," he encouraged when Leofrick didn't say anything more.

"The entire subterranean Labyrinth is crumbling, and Jareth was forced to perform massive feats of free magic in order to shore up just the single section that we were working in. Frankly, I am amazed that he wasn't destroyed in the act."

"Hmmm," Diermuid grunted. Leofrick could imagine the thoughts that were running through Diermuid's head at the moment. Although he had carefully remained neutral throughout his long career as a spy, Leofrick was no stranger to the game of politics and could play it as well as Diermuid. Leofrick knew what he would do with the information that he was presenting to the King of the Wood Elves. He suspected that his new monarch's thoughts ran along the same lines as his did.

"Jareth and Ethan appear to have had a bit of a falling out over the behavior of the Goblin King over the past few years. Apparently, all the rumors about his reclusive sulking were not far off the mark. More than one worker in the Labyrinth told me that they hadn't seen as much of their king in the last five years as they had over the past week."

"And the reason for this? Is it as I suspected?" Leofrick nodded and Diermuid drew in a quick breath of surprise. "You confirmed this?"

"Better," Leofrick stated shortly. "I heard it direct from the King and his General. I happened to be in the hallway to deliver some reports to the king and just  _happened_  to overhear their discussion. General Ethan has kept the army intact, even expanded it, but the physical defenses of the kingdom are in shambles. General Ethan blames the girl that ran the Labyrinth six years ago for Jareth's behavior."

He paused then added, "He confronted him directly."

"What happened then?"

"I had to interrupt. I heard a servant approaching and I dared not be caught eavesdropping. So, I knocked and delivered the paperwork. I think they were suspicious anyway. They had me watched for the rest of the night. Since I had all the information I needed, I left before they could come and extend an invitation for me to join them in the castle dungeons for further questioning."

"A wise decision, Lord Leofrick." Diermuid's smile was positively gleeful.

Leofrick inclined his head in acknowledgement of his new position but said nothing, giving Diermuid the time to process all of the new information he had just received. Leofrick himself used the time to go over everything that had happened to make sure that he left nothing out. He did not want to be confronted later with information that he failed to deliver. After a few moments, he cleared his throat to get Diermuid's attention again. There was one odd occurrence that he had forgotten to mention. "There was one more thing that I thought I should mention. While Jareth was in the process of communing with the Labyrinth or whatever it is he does to fix it, there was a very odd event that was witnessed by everyone on the work force."

Diermuid looked at him expectantly.

"We believe that the Labyrinth itself spoke," he said, knowing how absolutely ridiculous he sounded but not knowing any other way to explain the multi-toned voice that had boomed out over the length and breadth of the Great Maze.

"What do you mean you think the Labyrinth spoke?" Diermuid asked. "That's absurd. It's a maze- made from brick, stone and plants- nothing more. Yes, it is highly magical, but it doesn't have an awareness."

"We all heard it," Leofrick asserted. "This huge, strangely choral voice spoke and nearly deafened everyone. It sounded like many people, all speaking with one voice." Leofrick leaned forward in his chair and looked directly at the King. He had known that this would be difficult for the wood elf to swallow. Hell, if he hadn't been there himself he never would have believed it. He couldn't blame Diermuid for not believing a word of what he was saying, but Leofrick needed to report it. He wanted to begin his new life free and clear, not with a lingering doubt about his report.

"What did this voice say?" Diermuid asked sarcastically.

"Seek the Airíoch." Leofrick repeated quietly.

At that, Diermuid sat bolt upright and stared. "Really! Well, that  _is_  interesting. That line died out years ago. I wonder what Jareth is trying to pull here?"

"You assume that it was Jareth himself who caused the voice we heard?" Leofrick asked. He had seen Jareth's face after the event, and he certainly hadn't looked like the entire thing had been staged. If anything, He would have said that the Goblin King was just as shell shocked by the sudden disembodied voice as the workers.

Diermuid scoffed, "Of course. What else? He probably seeks to deflect the blame from his failure to keep the damn thing up. Well, we shall see about that. I think I will call an emergency council meeting to discuss this." He stood up and went to his desk.

He created a few crystals as Leofrick watched. Magic had always fascinated Leofrick, but he was not blessed with the talent. Instead, he had worked on honing his skills in different areas, and they had served him well. He might not be able to conjure a crystal to spy on someone magically, but he was damned effective the old fashioned way. Now, it had landed him the best payday of his life.

Leofrick gathered up the paperwork that represented his new life and stood. At the movement, Diermuid looked up from his tasks. "Ah, retiring for the night then, Lord Leofrick? I will summon a servant to see you to a chamber here. Tomorrow, we shall find you some permanent rooms and get you settled into your office, after you officially swear fealty to me, of course."

Instead of creating another crystal, Diermuid pulled on a cord that was located on the wall behind his desk. Seeing the look that Leofrick gave him, Diermuid smiled knowingly. "It is often more expedient to do it without magic," he remarked. His face grew dark again. "Not everyone has access to the unlimited magic around us," he said bitterly, more to himself than to Leofrick. Wisely, the new Chief Intelligence Officer for the Wood Elven Kingdom kept his thoughts to himself and took no notice.

* * *

Diona watched the firelight flicker over Sarah's features as they sat comfortably by the hearth in her cottage on the cool autumn evening. Nearly a week had passed since she had watched Sarah bid her friends farewell and stand forlornly at the gate, watching them as they headed off across the meadow. The intervening days had been filled with quiet household tasks that kept their bodies busy, yet allowed them ample time for both thinking and talking. She and Sarah had discussed many things, but the old woman had skillfully avoided any mention of subjects that she did not want to talk about. Sarah had used all the cunning at her disposal to prod the older woman into giving her the information she craved, but Diona deftly parried each verbal thrust with a neatly timed distraction. Her avoidance was beginning to drive Sarah a little batty, Diona could tell.

She eyed her guest carefully. Diona was not withholding information from Sarah for the fun of it. Sarah had to be ready to hear the information that Diona planned to tell her. Those idiot doctors Above spent six years breaking Sarah, and it would take more than the span of a few days for her to heal. Sarah's body had already begun the process of rebounding from the long years of near starvation. Diona helped in every way she could to expedite Sarah's healing. Every bite of food that went into Sarah's mouth was laced with healing magic meant to help her body recover just that little bit faster, and it was working. Already, her face had lost some of the thin angularity that was so pronounced when she arrived.

"So, Sarah," she said quietly. "What did Naida tell you back at her pond - about who you are, I mean?"

Sarah looked up from her position on the floor next to the rocking chair. "She mentioned something about me being a caretaker for the Labyrinth but wouldn't explain why, other than to say that it was in my name." Sarah's brows drew together as she struggled to remember exactly what Naida told her. As Diona had hoped, it appeared that time had helped to dull Sarah's recollection, making her job of explaining just exactly who Sarah was a little bit easier.

"Do you know much about the origins of the name Williams?"

"Not really," Sarah replied. "Name meanings were never really an area of interest for me. Williams is a pretty common name Aboveground." Sarah squirmed around until she was stretched out comfortably on the rug, her eyes once more gazing into the flames."

"Yes, I know." Diona answered. "That was probably done on purpose by your ancestors, to help them hide."

"Why would they want to hide? You are talking in circles, just like Naida was." Sarah scowled but did not take her eyes away from the mesmerizing dance of the flames over the pile of logs. The fire crackled loudly and then settled back down again as Diona continued.

"The name literally means, descendant of William. In your case, the ancestor in question was the very first Lord Protector of the Labyrinth, William the Wise."

"What was he like? William?"

Diona laughed. "Dear me, it was long before I was around. Thousands and thousands of years have passed since he watched over the Labyrinth."

"But, aren't there any stories? Legends? You were always telling me stories when I was a girl. Are there any about William the Wise?"

"Well, now let me think. I can't recall any stories about him, but the Chronicles describe him as dark haired, tall and strong, wise- of course…" Diona trailed off, a look of concentration on her face. "Ah yes! There is one story." Sarah looked eager and Diona smiled. Sarah must feel so lost and abandoned right now if she was this eager to hear stories about an ancestor who lived thousands and thousands of years before she was born. Diona wished she could do more to ease Sarah's sense of being adrift in the world, but it was not the right time. For now, if a story about William the Wise helped, then Diona would relate the only one she knew.

"This story is an interesting one about his eyes. You see, he was born with brown eyes, warm and rich. It is said that one day, as a teenager, he wandered into the Labyrinth and actually made his way to the center. Until then, no one had ever solved it. He was missing for days, and when he finally emerged, his eyes had turned a startling shade of emerald green. He was the first Fae ever to have green eyes. Unless they are a descendant of William, you will never see a Fae with green eyes."

Sarah thought about that for a moment before understanding dawned on her face. "So, if William was… Fae… that means, that I'm not completely human, am I?" She once again looked up at Diona, shock and comprehension mixed in equal parts over her countenance. Diona smiled reassuringly at her.

"No dear, not entirely. Although William lived so long ago that I suspect that part of your heritage has been greatly watered down over the many thousands of years your family spent Above. So much so, that you probably bear no more than the tiniest fraction of William's blood." Diona bent down to retrieve the sewing basket from the floor beside her chair and took out the piece she was currently working on. It was a cloak for Sarah to wear as the seasons moved inexorably toward winter, and the air got chilly. The beautiful emerald green color was a wonderful match to Sarah's eyes. Diona continued the hem where she had left off the night before.

"I believe that your heritage is what protected you for so long after having eaten faery food," she offered in an effort to keep Sarah's mind busy. "Even so far diluted, it was enough to ensure that you didn't die as so many mortals before you have."

Diona paused to give Sarah a chance to digest what she heard and formulate any questions she might have. There were still some things that Diona was not prepared to tell the young woman, but she would do her very best to tell the absolute truth as she knew it. It was a common misconception among the fairytales in the mortal world that Fae were incapable of lying. That was not even remotely true. They were as capable of the act as humans, but Fae were far more aware of the power of the words they spoke, and thus chose not to sully their words with untruths. This was true in most cases. However, Fae were excellent liars when they felt it to be worth the cost. The loss of the purity and power of the words they spoke could be a heavy penalty to pay for a casual lie.

"Will it also protect me from wasting away and dying from the power that the Unaligned gave me?" Sarah asked in a small voice.

Diona quickly weighed her words carefully against Sarah's mental health. She hardly hesitated. "I believe that there is a good chance that it will."

Diona watched Sarah closely while she spoke. Sarah seemed to accept what she was told. It was as if a great weight had suddenly been lifted from her shoulders. Diona could see that the thought of imminent death had been weighing heavily on her mind.

"That's a relief," Sarah quipped. "Jareth had me thinking I would be as good as dead within the month!"

Once again, Diona cursed the fates for the ill timing of Karen Williams and her wish. Try as she might, the old woman had yet to figure out exactly why the Labyrinth had bent the rules for Sarah. It could be as simple as her ancestry, but Diona had a feeling that the answer was even more complex than she was capable of comprehending at the moment.

A few minutes of silence passed tranquilly away as Diona kept an eye on Sarah while she sewed. She could easily see that the young woman was much more comfortable now that she didn't think she was going to die at any moment. Diona now wished that she had put Sarah's fears to rest sooner. It might have helped her recovery even more if she had known. _Ah well, live and learn, even at my age,_  Diona thought.

Eventually, Diona began speaking again as she moved on to the last bit of work to be done on Sarah's cloak. "The meaning behind your name goes even deeper than just marking you as a protector of the Labyrinth," she said, deliberately sidestepping the reason the Labyrinth was protected to begin with. She would return to that in due time.

"Oh?" Sarah questioned with mild interest. She rolled to her side and looked up at Diona, her brown hair falling over the multicolored rug like a wave of chocolate in the firelight. Diona had retrieved some Aboveground clothing for her, and Sarah looked far more comfortable dressed in blue jeans and a cream colored sweater.

"Yes," Diona said. "The name William can be broken broken down to Will - Helm. Will, meaning just that, your  _will_ , your spirit, your fire... your soul, if you like. And then Helm, as in helm, or armour, signifying protection. William the Wise was the first Lord Protector of the Labyrinth, as I said. He passed his name on down to his descendants, as well as the duty and desire to guard the Labyrinth."

Sarah eyes had grown wider as she listened to Diona speak about the origins and meaning of her name. When Diona fell silent again, Sarah sat up and crossed her legs, sitting so that she was facing the chair where Diona sat, rocking gently.

"So," ventured Sarah, feeling her way instinctively through the problem. "When I was here last time, did I beat the Labyrinth on my own? Or did I win just because I happen to be a descendant of William?"

Diona didn't even have to think about it. "You beat the Labyrinth of your own accord, Sarah. There is no way that you would have been able to beat it by simply relying on your ancestry. For one, you are not sealed to the Labyrinth as Lord Protector, so the Labyrinth is under no obligation to help or guide you. For another, even William himself had to be accepted by the Labyrinth first, before he gained any help or special connection to it. Although, it is possible that the Labyrinth recognized who you are."

"So, it is possible that the Labyrinth was helping me, in it's own small ways?"

"I suppose it is; anything is possible. Despite everything we have learned, the Labyrinth is still very much an enigma. What do  _you_  think, Sarah?"

"I think…" Sarah fell silent for a few moments and closed her eyes. "I feel like the Labyrinth did help me, in small ways, although it did plenty to hinder me too. It seemed to throw just enough at me to keep me on my toes, but no more. Or maybe, it was just my friends that helped me."

"Then, perhaps it did help you. It is impossible to know. Although, I am quite sure that your friends helped as well. It is most unusual for a runner to make friends among the denizens of the Labyrinth itself. Most find the Labyrinth too hostile, and the creatures that dwell there are apathetic about them at best."

"It seemed so very welcoming before, like I belonged here. It was like… like visiting your grandparents house. It's not home, but it is still a place that you feel loved and happy." Sarah explained. She looked into the fire again and shuddered. "It's not as welcoming now. It felt dead to me, not at all like it was last time."

Diona nodded but did not speak. She could feel the very same thing that Sarah did. The Labyrinth was dying, and no one seemed to be able to stop it. Something had happened to it, just after Sarah's last visit. Not even Jareth seemed to be able to halt the spread of the sickness throughout the Great Maze. Diona hoped that Sarah's presence would help, but it was too soon to tell.

"Diona?"

"Yes, child?"

"Why did the Unaligned give me power?" Sarah's face was full of curiosity, like a young child with an interesting new toy to explore. Sarah wanted to know everything about what had happened to her now that Diona had loosened her tongue. Sarah twisted a lock of hair around her slender fingers as she waited for Diona's answer. The sight reminded Diona very much of herself, many years ago, when she had been young, and her hair was the same brown as Sarah's.

Diona's face grew thoughtful as she considered her answer carefully. The easy answer was that Sarah was going to need it, but that would start Sarah thinking down a path that Diona would much rather not go down right now, and they were already starting to stray into dangerous territory. Sarah's previous mental state was a hindrance at this point. While she wasn't crazy, as those in the Above had thought, Sarah was still fragile, thanks to their endless attempts to convince her that she was.

"Well, that too, has to do with who you are," Diona told her slowly, scrambling to frame an answer that Sarah would accept. As the silence stretched out, Diona made the decision and continued, "When the Court was formed, the son of William the Wise was the  _Airíoch_ , the Lord Protector of the Labyrinth. He believed that his first and only loyalty was to the Labyrinth and the Croí Foinse that lies in a grotto under the Castle Beyond the Goblin City."

Sarah opened her mouth to ask a question, but Diona held up a hand to forestall her. She could guess what the question would be.

"The Croí Foinse- you would say Heart Spring, or maybe Heart Fountain, in English- is the most sacred place in the entire Underground. It is the wellspring of all life and magic in the Realms. Legend has it that the Old Ones traveled there when they neared death. As they lay dying, they released their spirit, their magical selves if you will, into the spring. Over the passage of many thousands of years, the water and the spring grew to be the most magical things in either the Above or Underground." She paused and looked at Sarah again. When the young woman nodded, showing her understanding of what she was just told, Diona continued with the story.

"The Airíoch believed that his only loyalty was to the Croí Foinse that he protected and the Labyrinth that surrounded it. He refused to swear fealty the the High King or the Court and was thus labeled Unaligned and thought to be a dangerous upstart. The High King at the time, believing that what he was doing was the right thing, forced the Airíoch to leave the Labyrinth. The old stories say that the Airíoch, swearing that he would rather live as an outcast among the mortals, took his entire family and left the Underground, rather than see his beloved Labyrinth under the rule of the Court. They disappeared amongst the mortals and were lost to us. At some point, they took the surname Williams, which later became common."

_Now, the descendants of the Airíoch neither know nor understand the power they could wield here in the Underground._  Diona thought to herself, as she watched the shadows flicker over the face of the last known Airíoch. She waited, hoping that she had said enough to satisfy Sarah for the moment.

"What about those who are Unaligned but stayed Underground? I mean, it seems that most Unaligned have been living here, Underground, not Above. Why did they stay?" Sarah asked quietly. Diona could not read the expression on her face, and she wished that Sarah would give her some clue to what she was thinking. This was an incredibly serious and life changing story for the young woman.

"They stayed to watch over the Labyrinth and the Croí Foinse. Those who remained Underground were, at first, a loose collection of creatures who either did not care for the new order or felt as the Airíoch did. They came to believe that the first loyalty of all who dwelt Underground should be to the Heart. Some have since joined the Court, and others, whose ancestors swore fealty at the beginning, have renounced that loyalty and returned to being Unaligned. Eventually, they came together and took a vow to remain separate from the Court."

"Naida said that the Unaligned were watching me. She made it sound like they were waiting for me, and I was somehow the answer to everything," Sarah said, looking up at her in confusion. Diona's heart sank. Sarah must have seen something in her expression that made her suspicious because Sarah snapped upright and said sharply, "Diona, words have power. I learned that when I was fifteen. What was the rest of the vow? 'We will remain separate from the Court' hardly constitutes a vow. So, there must have been more. What was the rest?"

Diona considered refusing to answer at all, but she knew that Sarah would not leave it alone. She also considered lying but feared the consequences should she stain the tale with a falsehood. For all she knew, lying about this could bring about the destruction of the Underground. It was with great reluctance that she finally continued.

"They vowed to remain separate from the Court... until such a time as the guardianship of the Croí Foinse and the Labyrinth were once again in the hands of the Airíoch."

After Diona spoke the entire vow, Sarah was silent for a long time. Diona watched her anxiously. So much would depend on Sarah, and if she had erred in telling her this story before she was ready… Diona shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

Eventually, the fire died down to embers which glowed red in the darkness. Still, they sat there- Sarah on the floor and Diona in the rocking chair. The only sounds to be heard were the occasional creaks as Diona rocked in the chair and the constant buzzing and chirping of the nighttime insects outside the cottage.

Just as her patience began to run out, Diona heard a sniffle coming from the floor beside her chair. Conjuring a crystal full of light, she lit the room with magic. Tears were running down Sarah's face.

Sarah looked up at her, tears streaking down her face. "No," whispered Sarah, almost to herself. Then she turned to Diona and said, "I don't want this. Take it back!"

Diona's heart sank at Sarah's words. She had been afraid that it was too soon, but Sarah wasn't a child, and she could not be kept in the dark for much longer. The Fates knew that Sarah had been more than patient. "Sarah-" she began, only to have Sarah cut her off. Rising to her feet, Sarah began to pace in front of the fireplace.

"You bring me here and tell me that I'm supposed to be some sort of… of… King Arthur figure?" she asked incredulously. Her voice rose as she spoke, but never reached the level of a scream. "The long lost heir, come back to take up the throne or whatever? I don't want anything to do with this madness. For the last six years, I've done all I can to put this nonsense behind me. I won't be dragged back in. Not by you, and not by Jareth! I'm done. From what I understand, the Unaligned want to set me up as some kind of rival to the Goblin King! That's just insanity. This is how people get killed, and I won't have that on my conscience. No long lost title is worth that."

Sarah stopped in front of her chair and Diona looked up at her. There was a resolved look on Sarah's face, yet a sadness lurked in her emerald green eyes. She held her arms tightly against her chest, as though she were trying to hold herself together long enough to do what had to be done. "I'm sorry if I'm not what you expected," Sarah said. "But I just can't be what you want me to be. I'm broken, and I don't think that any amount of time, or therapy, will fix that."

Sarah turned her back and walked away. Diona wisely chose to hold her tongue and let Sarah go her own way, even though it nearly broke her heart to do it. As Sarah got into her bed on the far side of the room, Diona continued to sit and rock in her chair, thinking as she put the final stitches into the cloak. She had told Sarah barely half of everything she needed to know and even that was too much.  _It was too soon,_  she berated herself.  _I should have waited._

Eventually, the breathing from across the room grew even, and Diona knew that Sarah was asleep. She stiffly crossed the room to stand next to the bed, looking down at the young woman. There was so much that Sarah didn't know. How was this frail woman ever going to be ready? In the end, the Fates would have their way. Sarah wouldn't have a choice. None of them would.

* * *

Sarah fell asleep with a troubled mind. Had she been awake enough to recognize the irony of a former mental patient describing her state of mind in that fashion, she would have snorted at herself for being ridiculous. As it was, she tossed restlessly while the things that Diona told her swirled in her mind. The truth was that the idea of going up against the Goblin King, the Court, an entire world of unknowns… it terrified her. Standing up for the disenfranchised was all well and good, in theory. In actual practice, Sarah  _was_  one of the disenfranchised Unaligned. To her, that didn't seem like a very solid platform upon which to begin a crusade.

Her sleeping mind mocked her with thoughts of what Jareth would say if he were to ever find out what the Unaligned wanted with her. She might have boldly claimed that her will was as strong as his, but she would not relish an outright battle between them. Last time, they had engaged in no more than a short contest for thirteen hours, a game, and it had left her nearly dead.

_What did it do to you?_  Her sleeping self asked the image of Jareth that swam up from the depths of her mind to stand before her, arms crossed and an arrogant smirk on his face.

_"It broke me,"_  Jareth told her, the smirk melting away, leaving a poignant look of longing in it's place.

The scene around them solidified until Sarah was standing once again in that oddly fractured room where they'd had their final meeting. He stood before her, looking sadly at her. Sarah was confused. She couldn't remember how she had gotten here. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean what I say," he told her. "You broke the Labyrinth, somehow…" Now, Jareth looked confused as he looked around.

"How did we get here?" he muttered.

Sarah shrugged and folded her arms across her chest. "I have no idea. Could you please send me back where I came from?"

"If I didn't bring you here, then I can't send you back, wherever that is," he snapped. Jareth suddenly seemed to realize something and he crossed the distance between them quickly, grabbing her shoulders. "Where are you?"

Sarah smirked at him, "Dreaming, obviously."

"That's not what I meant!" Jareth threw his gloved hands up in the air in exasperation as he rolled his eyes. "Please, Sarah, it isn't safe for you to wander around alone. Tell me where you really are, and I will come and get you, once I... wake up."

His mouth turned up in a wry grin as Sarah stared at him in fascination. She had never seen him actually smile happily and easily before. He had smirked, and frowned, and even laughed... in a sinister manner. But he had never actually smiled like that at her. Sarah was amazed at the way he looked.

"Why are you so happy?" she asked suspiciously.

"Because I'm dreaming, obviously," he said, neatly throwing her own quip back at her. She rolled her eyes at his clever remark.

"And since this is just a dream," he added, stepping closer to her once again. "I can do this…"

He brought his hand up to cup her cheek. His gloved thumb brushed her cheekbone and her eyes widened at the feeling. It didn't feel like a dream. It felt very, very real. Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned closer to her, until all she could see were his eyes, one bright blue, the other dark. Part of her mind screamed at her to move! Hit him! Get away! Do anything except let him get closer. Sarah pushed that part away. It was only a dream, her sleeping mind reasoned. What harm could there be in allowing it to continue? Soon, she would wake up and forget all about this.

Sarah felt like time was suspended. There was nothing in the world but Jareth. Carefully, he leaned in and just barely brushed his lips across hers. Sarah closed her eyes. He smelled like… the Labyrinth. Wild and untamed, but with a hint of sex and magic. It was amazing.

Sarah's arms rose on their own and wound their way around his neck, pulling him closer. With a growl, Jareth claimed her mouth again, this time more firmly. His tongue skated across her bottom lip, and her own lips parted involuntarily. His hand slid around her waist and pulled her against his body, pressing into her lower back and cradling her against him. Sarah had never felt so cherished in her life.

He pulled away slightly and looked at her once again. "Sarah," he whispered. "I wish-"

A clatter to her left startled Sarah and she spun towards the sound, only to be assaulted by the bright morning light. She felt confused and empty as she watched Diona sweep up the remains of a mug that had shattered on the flagstones of the hearth.

"So sorry to wake you, dear" Diona told her with a smile. "The old bones are stiff in the morning, and it takes a while to iron out all the kinks."

Sarah flopped back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. That was, hands down, the most realistic dream she ever had. She brought her hand up to touch her lips. They even felt like she had just been kissed. Sarah had been kissed before, but it was always the quick, shy pecks of the very young.  _So, if dreams are a conglomeration of your own experiences and the nonsense of the mind, where did the source material for that performance come from?_  She mentally shook herself to rid her mind of the last lingering wisps of the dream and then got up to head to the bathroom. By the time she emerged, dressed and ready for the day, even the lingering feelings from the dream were gone.

* * *

The next day, the members of the Council once again gathered in Fialis for a meeting. This time, it was at Diermuid's instigation that they did so. Andris grumbled at the thought that Diermuid, the pompous ass, had once again dragged him away from his home to attend a meeting. He should be back in Bhandarth, seeing to the refugees and the defense of his kingdom, not here pandering to Diermuid's overdeveloped sense of entitlement.

Rhiannon laughed at his wordless grumbling. The sound was a silvery peal that rang out through the corridor leading to the council chamber. She turned to him and said, "I can guess the reason for your grumbling as well as my husband, old friend."

"What can you do as well as I can?" Cieran asked, appearing at the end of the corridor and rapidly closing the distance between them. He slid his arm around his wife's waist affectionately and kissed her soundly. Rhiannon giggled like a girl as Andris smiled tolerantly at the antics of his friends. He was truly happy for them.

The dwarven King had never found anyone with whom to share his life. Not that he had lived a celibate lifestyle. He chuckled wryly at the thought. No, he'd had bedmates aplenty, and not always dwarven women. There were plenty of women from other races who had been willing to see past his height and join him in a romp between the sheets in order to taste the pleasures of being a king's mistress. None of them had ever lasted for very long, nor had any of those brief couplings ever produced a child. As a result, his nephew, Ralok Ironhand, would inherit the throne upon his death.

Ralok was the only son of his youngest sister. He was a hulking brute of a dwarf with black hair and the same violet eyes that all dwarves had. He and Andris had been working closely together for the past forty years or so and Andris had found him to be as intelligent as he was physically powerful, a rare combination. He would eventually make a good king. Right now, Ralok was back at home in Bhandarth, seeing to the duties that Diermuid's impromptu summons had once again pulled Andris away from. Andris gritted his teeth at the thought. _Could any one person be as infuriating as that elf,_  he wondered? At least he knew that his kingdom was in good hands while he was away. Having his nephew inherit almost made up for his own lack of children. He was like a son to Andris, and Andris certainly treated him like his own.

The Dwarf King came back to the real world when he heard all of their names being called by Diermuid. "Pompous ass," he muttered, repeating his previous sentiments to Rhiannon, who now stood demurely at her husband's side. She stifled a giggle as the Wood Elven King marched purposefully down the hallway toward their group, his scarlet tunic and gold breeches flashing.

"Be good, Andris, or I'll tell Twylithia that you've been ogling her bottom again," she chided him in a whisper.

He shot her a look that said she would pay for that threat later but made no reply, since Diermuid was once again inflicting his presence on them all. Andris glanced at the overdressed elf in disgust. The man always looked like a popinjay.

"I'm glad I was able to catch you before the meeting, Your Majesties," he said to the High King and his Queen with a bow. He nodded politely at Andris, and the dwarf returned the polite gesture, barely.

"As are we," Rhainnon remarked tartly. "You didn't say why you felt it necessary to call the Council back into session for the second time in a week. The travel is harder on some than on others." Butter wouldn't have melted in her mouth as she finished speaking. She glanced pointedly in his direction as Andris bowed floridly in response, immediately taking up his accustomed role of the aggrieved clown in their little game of baiting Diermuid. It was a long standing game, going all the way back to their younger years, before the burdens of rule had worn them down. Andris supposed they were all too old for this kind of nonsense now, but they all played their parts just the same. Rhiannon made tart remarks disguised as sweet peacemaking gestures, Andris played the clown, and Cieran brought his acerbic wit out to play, all in the name of irritating Diermuid.

Diermuid looked uncomfortable, which Andris supposed they would have to take as a win. The Elven King was getting better at keeping his cool. This game had been much more fun when he was younger and more likely to get hot under the collar. Eventually, Diermuid cleared his throat and glared at Andris before speaking. "There are several reasons why I called the meeting. The good news is that I have found the perfect bride for Jareth!"

Rhainnon blanched and looked as though she might be sick. Cieran did not look much better. "You have?" he said weakly. "Well, we shall certainly take it under advisement."

Diermuid didn't allow the High King to go any further. "She is perfect. We already agreed that I would take on this task, and I saw no reason to drag it out. The faster the succession is secured the better in these uncertain times."

Rhiannon bit her lip and dug her elbow into her husband's ribs. Cieran sputtered but couldn't come up with a reasonable excuse to put it off. The best he could manage was, "We will certainly be open to discussing it in Council."

Privately, Andris thought that the last thing the Goblin King needed right now was a wife. Andris had his own scholars and had directed them to look into the prophecy. Unlike Shaylee, and many others throughout the Underground, he thought that it was more than likely to prove accurate in the end. The prophecy was murky at best on the subject of a wife. It spoke of union, or sometimes an alliance, neither of which explicitly meant marriage. Andris had pieced together a rough idea of what the woman,  _or perhaps women,_  he thought,  _the prophecy is maddeningly vague_ _,_  would be like. One thing it was crystal clear on was the strength of will this woman was supposed to possess. She wouldn't be some simpering little court doxy.  _Nor would Jareth want one of those_ _,_  Andris mused. The boy needed a challenge, someone who would match him, someone to meet his rock hard will and clash with it. Not a soft little thing that would meekly bend to his every demand.

"You did what!?" Cieran yelled in outrage and Andris realized that the conversation had gone on without him while he had been musing on the merits of a possible wife for Jareth.

Diermuid looked down his nose at the High King, quite a feat considering Cieran stood several inches taller than the wood elf. "You should have brought this before the Council when you first learned of it... all of you," he said, looking around at the three of them. Andris was momentarily baffled by what had rammed a hammer up Diermuid's ass this time. He didn't have to wait long to find out as the elven King quickly continued with his little tirade.

"The state of the Labyrinth is of paramount concern to the entire Underground," Diermuid intoned. "The Labyrinth protects the Croi Foinse, the very source of the magic that flows through the Underground. My sources tell me that Jareth's neglect has caused such a decline in the stability of the Labyrinth that there are sinkholes forming!" Diermuids' voice rang through the marble hallway and echoed off the far wall.

Andris glanced guiltily at his friends. In truth, Diermuid was right, despite his supercilious attitude about the whole thing. They should have brought the situation to the attention of the Council. In this case, Diermuid had caught them out, and he knew it.

"I've sent an official summons to the Goblin King, demanding that he appear before the Council and answer for his lapse." Diermuid fold his arms across his chest and looked pointedly at Cieran. "Just as you should have done months ago."

The High King took a step toward Diermuid. "Now, see here-"

The Wood Elven King once again cut off the his liege as though he wasn't speaking. Andris wondered where the elf had been hiding the big brass hoden all these years. "I will also be inquiring into his association with the mortal runner. I believe her name is Sarah. That is a matter that should also be looked into by the Council."

Andris watched the emotion drain away from Cieran's face and knew that Diermuid had gone too far, pushing Cieran over the edge of anger and into white hot rage. Rhiannon placed a restraining hand on her husband's arm as Andris subtly moved himself into a better position to grab his longtime friend should he lose control and lunge at Diermuid. Not that Andris would blame Cieran. Diermuid had more than overstepped the bounds of his authority as a Council member.

"You have vastly overstepped your authority," Cieran growled, unknowingly voicing Andris' own thoughts on the matter.

Although he had paled in the face of the High King's anger, Diermuid refused to back down and Andris had a sudden mad desire for his hammer. He irrationally wanted to take a swing at the crotch of the wood elf, just to see if he actually connected with anything metal.

"That may be so, but it should have been done several years ago, when you first became aware of the situation. Diermuid glanced at Rhiannon. "The matter of the succession is of grave importance to us all. It can't be left in the hands of pure random chance. To think that there is any possibility that a mortal wench could sully the blood-"

"Enough!" roared Cieran. He reached out and grabbed the front of Diermuid's tunic, bringing his face to within inches of that of the wood elf. Andris threw himself forward and attempted to break the two men apart. He was unsuccessful. With a shrug, the dwarf stopped trying once he realized that Cieran did not intend any further violence.

When the High King spoke again, his voice was measured, even calm, but no one could miss the deadly threat inherent in his tone. "Regardless of what should have been done, I have had enough of your disrespect and pontification. Despite the fact that my son has refused his seat on the Council, you would do well to remember that he is well within his rights to demand access to it at any time. That makes him your equal in the eyes of the Council and of Our throne, and that, if nothing else, should ensure your respect for him as a fellow monarch. I very much hope that you have the means to back up your claims, for if you cannot," Cieran paused to smile dangerously at his vassal. "If you cannot, Jareth is well within his rights to demand retribution for your slander. Given how much you have irritated me lately, I am inclined to see that he gets whatever he should ask for."

Cieran dropped the elf and began to stride down the hallway in the direction of the Council Chamber, calling back over his shoulder as he went, "I have no choice now but to take part in this, Diermuid, but rest assured that you will answer for your actions at a later date."

Diermuid scuttled off, his metaphorical tail between his legs, as Rhainnon and Andris exchanged a glance. Andris saw his own shock mirrored on Rhiannon's face. Shock at the behavior of both men. Cieran had never before taken such a direct and confrontational approach to his rule, that particular tactic belonged more to his son than to the perpetually unruffled High King. Diermuid had never before been so bold in his challenges to Cieran's authority.

"Well," remarked Rhainnon. "This Council session promises to interesting."

With another flamboyant bow, Andris took her hand and kissed it. "My dear," he said dramatically. "You have quite the gift for euphemisms."

They both laughed, but each one privately wondered if the upcoming Council session would end in bloodshed.


	12. An Unexpected Raid

**Disclaimer:** We all know this song and dance by now. Don't own any of the characters, or the world, from the movie.

**A/N**  - I would like to congratulate cchimp123 who was one of the winners in the Easter Egg hunt and will be making a debut in this chapter as the healer, Alex. Thanks so much for agreeing to participate! And finally, thanks to Enchanted Peach Dreams and my wonderful husband for their editing on this chapter. I couldn't do it without you!

**Warning:**  Graphic violence and foul language ahead.

* * *

"Sarah."

Sarah looked up at the sound of Diona calling her name. As she watched, Diona poked her head in through the wide open door of the cottage. "Yeah?"

"Leave the dishes, dear. It's such a nice day that I think we should be outdoors today."

Sarah pulled her hands out of the basin of soapy water and looked around for a towel to wipe them off. After waking up from that strange dream, which she could no longer remember, she had done her best to avoid Diona. Sarah felt bad for what she had said last night but she had not changed her mind. She had no idea what it actually meant to be this Airíoch, but Sarah was rather hoping that they could drop the entire subject. Locating a towel, Sarah took her time drying her hands as she thought about the previous night.

Diona had insinuated, not said, but definitely insinuated, that the Unaligned wanted to make Sarah their ruler. Maybe she had taken Diona's explanation the wrong way, or maybe not. Either way, Sarah knew that she didn't want anything to do with such a crazy scheme. She was no ruler.  _I can barely keep my own life together,_ Sarah thought.  _Imagine me trying to run a kingdom. It's ridiculous. Besides, everything I thought I knew about this place as clearly false. I don't have the experience, the training... or the diplomacy._  Her rueful thoughts went back to her behavior on the afternoon that Jareth had brought her back Underground. True, it hadn't been her best day, but still. One outburst like that at the wrong moment could land her entire kingdom in some stupid war over the price of cows… or whatever trivial thing it was that irritated her. No, much better to put an end to all such expectations and get back Above as fast as she could. Having dawdled as long as she could in the kitchen, Sarah sighed and put her thoughts away to go join Diona outside.

When Sarah came out the front door, Diona was waiting for her. "Sarah, there you are. There is something I wanted to ask you."

Sarah held her breath.

"I was wondering if you would like to go and see the Croí Foinse?" Diona asked.

Sarah let out a quiet sigh of relief, glad that they would not have to rehash the scene from last night. She thought about Diona's suggestion. It did sound nice, but how were they ever to get in and out without Jareth taking notice?

"I would love to, Diona, but won't Jareth know we are there?"

"No dear, I have ways of getting there that he doesn't know anything about."

"But, you said that it was right under the castle. How can he possibly miss the fact that I am there?"

"He won't know, dear, trust me, he can't see you."

"What do you mean he can't see me? I'm not exactly invisible, and he uses his magic to spy on people all the time."

"No one can see you through magical means, Sarah," Diona told her seriously. She looked slightly put out at the thought. "It is one of those mysteries about you that I haven't been able to solve. No one can scry you. If they try, the spell just collapses."

Sarah thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. If Diona said they wouldn't be caught then she would trust her. If she had wanted to turn her over to Jareth, there were easier ways to do it. "Will we leave right away?"

"No, I thought we would wait a few days. There is no real rush." Diona knelt down in the herb garden that grew next to the cottage. Her floppy straw hat obscured most of her face but Sarah could see the triumphant looking smile that was on her old friend's face. "I brought out a hat for you, Sarah, to keep the sun off your nose."

Sarah nodded, wondering what Diona was so happy about, and retrieved the hat that was sitting with some gardening tools under the tree. Then, she joined Diona in pulling weeds. Although weeding certainly wasn't Sarah's favorite activity, she had not been raised to sit idly by while her elders worked. So she helped, and even found a sort of joy in the task. As the morning wore on, Diona began to seem more and more distracted, until she finally sat back and looked around with a perplexed look on her face.

"What's wrong, Diona?"

"Something is coming."

All of the sudden, a small band of fairies came flying out of the woods around the house, screaming in high pitched voices. They surrounded Sarah and Diona, babbling too fast for Sarah to follow their conversation. Diona did not seem to have that problem and listened gravely for a few minutes before gasping. Her face went white as a sheet and she look at Sarah in panic.

"What's going on?" Sarah cried.

"The fairies say there is a band of orcs in the Labyrinth and they are headed this way. There is a Fae with them. From what the fairies say, they intend to take you," Diona told her.

Instantly, Sarah's face went as white as Diona's. "Jareth! I knew he was a snake, but I never thought he would stoop to this!"

"No!" Diona said sharply, pausing at the door to send a surge of magic out to the gate, erecting a magical barrier around the cottage before ushering Sarah into the house as quickly as she could. The barrier flared brightly into life and then disappeared, waiting invisibly for something to strike it. "Jareth would never, ever be involved with orcs. No matter what you think of him, he is a good king and a loyal member of the Court. He also wouldn't hurt  _you_." She took Sarah's hat and placed it with her own on the table next to the door, ignoring Sarah's quizzical look at her emphatic declaration.

Sarah continued to look skeptical about Jareth not being involved but Diona was insistent, and eventually Sarah had to acquiesce to the older woman's greater knowledge of the Underground. They bustled about the cottage for about five minutes. Diona kept grabbing things and hiding them in some sort of magical space under the hearthstones. When Sarah tried to ask her why she needed to hide those things, Diona just waved her off and kept on piling things into Sarah's arms. The fairies kept flying in and out, giving updates every few minutes and adding to the stress of the situation.

"Shouldn't we be running, or hiding, or something?" Sarah asked panic creeping into her voice.  _Live in the moment and be strong_ _,_  she reminded herself, taking a deep breath to help settle her nerves.

"We will dear. They aren't quite here yet and I don't want everything I own to go up in smoke." Diona seemed remarkably unworried about the band of orcs that were supposedly descending on them. She lifted the green cloak she had been working on and shook it out for Sarah to see.

"Here, I made this for you, dear. The nights will be getting chilly now." Diona swirled the cloak around Sarah's shoulders and secured it with a pin.

"Why aren't you more worried?" Sarah asked her, pulling at the neck of the cloak and looking curiously at the pin. It was a stylized knot, reminiscent of a twisting and turning maze, it had a blue stone set in a craggy looking setting in the exact center of the knot.

"Because, now that they have breached the borders of the Labyrinth itself, the King will be alerted and come to find out what is going on. I would be very surprised if he didn't bring the army with him."

"Jareth will come here!" Sarah yelped, forgetting about the pin for the time being.

"Of course he will dear."

Sarah paled and wrung her hands for a moment before moving to help Diona once again. There was a sudden, high pitched shrill from a group of pixies outside the door and Diona straightened from the hearth. The stones slid back into place, leaving no hint that they had ever moved. "Come, Sarah, we need to leave now."

Diona grabbed Sarah by the hand and led her over to the back wall of the little cottage, just past the place where Sarah's bed sat. The older woman pushed a tapestry out of the way, revealing a small door that Sarah had not known existed. She opened the door and pulled Sarah through.

Unseen by either Sarah or Diona, a small black shape zipped through the gap between the door and the frame, just before the door clicked shut. In the empty cottage, the tapestry once again fell into place, hiding the secret exit.

Once inside the tunnel, the shadow hovered in the darkness above the fleeing women, taking care to stay far enough back that the hum if it's wings did not reach them. As they fumbled about in the near pitch black tunnel, it had no trouble following them while still remaining unseen, for it seemed far more comfortable in the darkness than they were.

Sarah found herself following Diona as they hurried along the tunnel that stretched out before them. At first the tunnel seemed to lead down, deeper into the ground. Sarah could feel a breeze and barely make out various openings that they passed by, first on one side, then on the other. Diona ignored them all and continued straight on. Eventually, the tunnel began to slope upwards again. Sarah thought they must be nearing the surface, but could see no hint of light, when Diona stopped suddenly. Sarah nearly ran into her in the dark.

"What are we doing?" Sarah hissed.

"Just a moment. I have to find the catch," Diona grumbled. There were shuffling sounds and a muffled curse before Diona said, "Ah, there it is!"

Sarah was nearly blinded by the sunlight that flooded into the tunnel. Diona stepped out into a clearing and motioned for Sarah to do the same. As Sarah climbed out of the tunnel, their unseen tail followed close on her heels, blinking and wincing in the light. Once free of the tunnel, she shot off, back toward the cottage and the advancing raiders.

When they were both out in the small clearing, Diona pushed the door shut. Sarah was amazed to see that they had exited the tunnel through the trunk of a massive oak tree with hundreds of knots adorning it's rough trunk. There was no sign of a door.

"That's incredible." Sarah whispered in awe, reaching out a hand to touch the rough bark.

"It's always a good idea to have an escape route handy," Diona told her with a small smile. "I'm just glad that the tunnel was still intact, given all the decay that has been plaguing the Labyrinth. Come along, we are a good ways from the cottage, but it never hurts to get further away from danger."

Diona began to shuffle through the forest, away from the clearing and the door in the tree. Sarah was a little surprised to see the ancient looking woman move so well. They walked for nearly ten minutes before Diona called a halt. "I have to rest," she gasped.

Immediately Sarah stepped up next to her. "Why didn't you let me help you!"

Diona irritably waved her away. "I may be old, child, but I am not infirm yet." Sarah smiled. Although she had known Diona as her neighbor Aboveground since childhood, the person that Sarah had been staying with Underground sometimes felt like a stranger to her. She was glad to once again see a glimmer of the woman she had spent so many summer days with.

Suddenly, there was a small voice shrieking above them "Over here! They are this way! Come on!"

Both Sarah and Diona looked up to see a tiny figure crouched in the branches above them. To Sarah, it looked like a cross between a bat and a fairy, with it's dark skin and large ears. There was no hair on the tiny head, however, the wings that spread out behind the little creature were exquisite. Something glinted around the neck of the tiny creature, but Sarah wasn't able to make out what it was. She stood for a moment with her mouth hanging open before Diona pulled her away.

"Come on, Sarah! We must go."

They moved rapidly through the forest. The small dark faery creature followed them, occasionally yelling out their location. Glancing again at the dark faery, Sarah began, "Is that a-"

"A nyxie," Diona spat. "Obviously not a friendly one."

Before long they could hear the tramp of heavy feet and the laughter and calls of their unseen pursuers. Diona stopped and looked around. Finally, she shook her head and turned back to Sarah.

"It's no use. We can't outrun them, not with this pest acting as lookout," she said grimly, pointing up at the nyxie, who was once again crouched out of reach in the tree above them.

"Traitorous little thing!" she muttered at it as she made as though to conjure a crystal. The nyxie ducked behind the branch and looked slightly ashamed. For a moment, Sarah thought that the little fairy would leave them alone, but then the nyxie looked over her shoulder and shuddered in fear. Her reaction prompted Sarah to look behind them. She saw nothing, but the back of her neck prickled all the same.

"Sorry." A little voice floated down from the tree before the nyxie shot up high in the air, once more broadcasting their location across the forest.

"Sarah, look at me." When Sarah once more had her attention locked on the older woman, Diona continued, "I'm going to send you away. I don't know why the Orcs want you, but it must be you they are after. I can't let them take you."

"Where are you sending me?" Sarah asked, panic coloring her voice and causing her heart rate to increase exponentially. Diona did not appear to hear her. The old woman had her eyes closed. All around her, a blue and green aura had appeared. It was shot through with the pink that Sarah had come to associate with her personal magic, as it glowed brightly for a moment.

"Diona!" Sarah cried out again, and then she was gone. Diona had just enough time to smirk up at the nyxie, who was watching in horror as their quarry faded away before she slumped to the ground in a faint.

* * *

The dark Fae pushed through the forest, surrounded on all sides by the orcs that made up his raiding party. He grunted in disgust as he nearly tripped on yet another root. It would have been so much easier if they could have transported straight to the cottage. Unfortunately, he was having trouble using his magic. It appeared that while he was within the confines of the Labyrinth, Jareth, or perhaps even the Labyrinth itself, was working to dampen the effects of the dark magic that he bore.

"Damn you to the lowest fucking level in the Seven Hells, Jareth! You can't stop me from taking what I want. I'll just have to work a little harder to do it," he snarled as he stopped in a small clearing some way from the cottage. Looking around, he noted that all the members of this hand picked raiding party seemed to be present, even Viggu, who was here as part of his punishment for threatening to eat his little spy. The former sentry looked sullen, but resigned. The Fae bared his teeth at him in a grin.

"Cheer up Viggu! It is, after all, an honor to be chosen to take part in this raid into the very heart of the Goblin Kingdom. Perhaps you will earn a promotion when we return successfully."

The orc chose to say nothing in reply, and the Fae grinned wickedly around the circle of orcs that had gathered in the clearing. All of them had been chosen for their stealth and skill with weaponry, except Viggu. Despite the prestige of the mission, very few of them expected to make it back alive. They were very far from friendly territory, about to strike at a target in the very heart of the Underground Realms. The tall Fae knew the risks that they took, but cared nothing for it, so long as he accomplished his goal. Sarah must be removed from the Labyrinth and brought back to stay by his side. He couldn't have her traipsing about and undoing all the plans he had been making for all these years.

He drew a rough sketch of the cottage and the clearing that surrounded it out of the pouch at his waist. Chiara had been most helpful in providing intel about the terrain and the cottage itself, as well as the occupants. He once again congratulated himself on procuring the little nyxie's services.

"The girl is the primary target. Once someone lays hands on her, then we all withdraw and meet up again at the rendezvous point. Are we clear?" All around him, dark orcish eyes watched his every move narrowly and heads nodded to show their understanding. He could feel their disapproval, both of him and of his plan. Orcs lived to make war and they preferred outright butchery to kidnappings. It had taken him years to get it through their thick skulls that their forces were stronger if they recruited from outside their own race. With a few notable exceptions, he still had to keep his non orc followers well away from the orcs. They had a regrettable tendency to forget that they were not supposed to eat their allies.

"Now, the old woman may look frail and you will be tempted to dismiss her as harmless." He looked around the circle again, making sure that he caught the eye of each and every orc before he continued. "Making that assumption would be a grave mistake. If she is who I suspect, then she is very dangerous indeed. Take her out the first chance you get."

"If she so dangerous, how we take her out?" asked one of the orcs, a lieutenant in the same regiment as Viggu.

The Fae shrugged. "Hit her over the head for all I care. It's her magic that's dangerous, you idiot." He paused, waiting to see if there would be any more questions or comments. When none were forthcoming he stood. "Let's go. Oh, and feel free to burn everything you find and slaughter anything that gets in your way, my friends."

There were murmurs of approval from the assembled orcs as they stood and began to make their way through the woods once more. They were only a few hundred yards from the cottage when a high pitched chorus of screams went up in front of them.

"Dammit, old woman, you just had to have fairies about, didn't you? Let's go!" he shouted and the group began to run, quickly moving through the trees. They broke through the treeline and saw the cottage in a small clearing. With a savage cry the orcs ran forward, weapons ready and lit torches eager to light the thatched roof up. The Fae slowed as he sensed the magical barrier in place around the the cottage. He waited and watched to see what would happen when his troops ran into it. The more he knew about what it did, the easier it would be to break it.

The first orc hit the magical barrier around the cottage and rebounded off of the surface. The others stopped short and watched their companion in fascination. The orc began to choke, water pouring in an endless stream out of his mouth. Several of his companions began pounding on his back, attempting to help him. Nothing worked, and water continued to pour out of the unfortunate orc's mouth and nose, soaking the ground beneath him in an ever widening puddle. Within minutes he was dead, drowned on dry land.

The Fae growled in frustration and began to gather enough magic to dispel the old woman's shields. It was a slow process here, gathering and shaping the magic. The magic of this place was slow to respond to him and he had to utilize far more than he normally would have to accomplish even the simplest of tasks. Dispelling this ward was going to be far more taxing than he had hoped, and also far louder, as he couldn't spare the effort to keep it quiet. With a herculean effort, he channeled every ounce of magic he could into a nasty looking orb, and hurled it at the barrier. Even as it left his hand, it seemed to shrink and grow dimmer, as though something was fighting to extinguish the tainted crystal from existence.

It exploded against the magical shield that surrounded the cottage in a fiery blast. As the shield collapsed and the orcs ran toward the cottage, Chiara came racing toward him. "They got away!" she panted. Already angry from the effort it took to bring down the shield, he snarled in rage and she zipped back away from him. "They went that way." she pointed off to the north, behind the cottage.

He snapped around and screamed out for the best of the crew that he had brought with him. "Agug, Malzorn, Darthu, Ignatz, Bilge!" When the five orcs he has called came lumbering up he said, "Go with the nyxie, she will guide you to the girl, and mind what I said about the old woman, or you'll end up like him," he said, pointing to the body of the drowned orc that lay in front of the house.

As Chiara zipped off, leaving a scent trail that the five chosen orcs followed at a dead run, the Fae went to gather the rest of the orcs that were, even now, trying to set the house on fire. "Leave that for now," he shouted in rage. "The girl has fled and we will soon be discovered. Even if Jareth did not notice our presence before now, that magical blast will certainly have gotten his attention, we must be ready to repel that attack! Get inside, all of you!" The remaining nine orcs, plus Viggu and the tall Fae, pushed through the door to Diona's cottage to lie in wait.

Not ten minutes later, there was a magical disturbance outside the cottage and General Ethan stepped into view out in the meadow, followed by a few platoons of troops, all wearing the crest and colors of the Goblin Kingdom.

"Lay low," the Fae hissed at the orcs by the front windows.

The tactic worked for the moment. The other Fae watched in satisfaction as Ethan split his platoons up and ordered them to search the area for any interlopers. As the rest of his troops headed off into the surrounding forest, Ethan approached the cottage with only two squads of troops, one human and the other comprised of hobgoblins.

The larger relatives of the cute little goblins that infested the Labyrinth were as tall as the humans that accompanied them, but far more heavily muscled. They were the elite of the Goblin Kingdoms army. Heavy hitting squads of brute fighters that spread death and destruction in their wake whenever they encountered an enemy. As a species, they all had dark hair and heavily pointed ears. The smooth skin of the hobgoblins was a uniform green color.

Although they looked similar to the orcs that surrounded him, the Fae hiding in the cottage knew that there were some key differences between the two groups. Orcs tended to have tusks and sharper, more grotesque teeth, for one. They were also more likely to be twisted and deformed, as opposed to the uniformly humanoid hobgoblins. The nose of the orc could more accurately be described as a snout and their ears, while still pointed, tended to be smaller and more tightly held back against their heads. Although the hobgoblins were large, the orcs tended to surpass them, for sheer bulk, if not always in height. Despite a dramatic difference in coloring, the two species were quite similar. So similar, in fact, that there had been some speculation that they used to be one and the same. There were some very obscure old legends that told of how several families of orcs had chosen to side against their brethren and protect the Labyrinth with the Airíoch, rather than fight to possess it for themselves. As a result, they had become the hobgoblins that were now approaching the cottage warily with General Ethan.

The Fae that crouched below one of the front windows watched with interest as the group approached. He wondered where Jareth was. It was out of character for him to send his lackeys, even for something this minor. He had expected the arrival of the King, not his underling. He sighed, it was rather disappointing actually.

When Ethan rapped on the door, there was a slight tightening of hands around the hilts of weapons but no other movement from the hidden orcs. They had taken up defensive positions around the interior of the cottage and a hastily set warding spell was placed over the door in an attempt to discourage investigation. The Fae knew that Ethan had the skill to detect the ward, and also the skill to dispel it. The question was, would he?

It appeared that the General was weighing the very same question in his mind when a shout from the forest behind the cottage distracted him. The shouts were very shortly followed by the sounds of fighting. Ethan and the others charged headlong into the forest behind the cottage, leaving the house itself unsearched.

The Fae cursed. The fighting was a sure sign that the orcs he sent off after the girl and the old woman had been discovered. He could only hope that they had found their quarry before they were ambushed. Deciding that the best course of action would be to join the fray, he stood and ordered his troops out the door. "We will fall on them from the rear. Keep quiet until we reach the enemy forces." There were enthusiastic nods of agreement and slavering grins from his followers as they moved to obey his orders.

He kept to the rear as they moved through the forest, towards the sound of the skirmish just ahead. He held out no real hope for the few orcs that were likely to be engaged in the battle, they were too far outnumbered, despite their skill in battle. He just hoped they had managed to keep to their objective. They were nearing the battle, no more that a few hundred yards away, when Chiara dropped down from the trees above him, without warning. Despite her obvious fright and excitement, she ducked low in a bow before speaking. He was pleased to see that the little nyxie once again remembered her manners, although he did so enjoy her fear when she thought he would punish her.

"My Lord, you should come with me."

"Were you successful?" he asked eagerly, hoping that he could simply take the girl and abandon the orcs to their fate. He had no desire to get involved in this pitched battle deep in enemy territory.

Chaira hesitated. "We have the old woman but she won't tell us where she hid the girl. I am sure that you can-"

He cut her off, growling in frustration. "Can no one do anything right? She is under guard I assume?"

"There are two orcs guarding her."

"Have them bring her back to the cottage," he ordered. "Hurry. Jareth might have sent his lackey, but it won't take Ethan long to mop up this crew and come searching for anyone else. Besides, you never know if Jareth will show up himself." With a swirl of his black cloak, the blue eyed Fae turned and began making his way back to the cottage, leaving the band of orcs to their fate in the forest.

The orcs holding the old woman must have continued to move back toward the cottage after sending the nyxie to find him, for they were already waiting in the yard when the Fae came striding around the corner of the building. The old woman was slumped on the ground between them, obviously dropped there after being carried back to her home. When he appeared, she slowly pulled herself to her feet, leaning on a staff that she had somehow managed to retain, even though her ordeal.

"Mathyn," she spat. "Why doesn't it surprise me to find that you are behind this nonsense?"

Mathyn threw back his head and laughed, his dark hair gleaming in the sun. "Well, old woman. It's been many years. Still as crotchety as ever, I see."

"What do you want?" Diona stood as straight as she was able to as she faced him. He had to give her credit for her spunk, no matter how much she had always annoyed him.

"Come now, Diona. You know what I want." He crossed his arms over his black clad chest and stared down at the old woman before him. There had been a time, when he was a child, that she had frightened him. That time was long past. It was she who ought to be frightened of  _him_ now.

She raised her chin defiantly. "And what would that be again?" Her voice was cool and her manner unaffected. Raising his ire. If he had not been here, with Jareth's wards or the cursed Labyrinth itself strangling his magic, he would have given her an object lesson in fear. As he was rather restricted with regard to magical means of chastisement, he did the next best thing.

His hand shot out and he backhanded her roundly across the face. She fell to the ground, her lip cut and bleeding, the marks of his knuckles red on her right cheek. "I want the girl. What have you done with her?"

Diona actually snickered. "She's gone." Satisfaction colored her tone and she looked up at him defiantly. Despite the blow, she was unbroken. Her hands still gripped her staff tightly as though she would begin to beat him with it, if only she could gather the strength to do so.

"What do you mean, gone?" he screamed in rage. "What have you done with her!"

"Ah, ah, Mathyn. Still letting your temper get the better of you, I see." She tsked at him from where she still sat on the ground at his feet.

He saw red. This old woman had the gall to chastise him as she lay on the ground, literally at his feet! He reached down and hauled her up, only to backhand her to the ground once more. This time, he followed her down, his fists making shockingly meaty sounds as they connected with her body. After a minute, Chiara was screaming at him to stop and the orcs pulled him back, away from the old woman.

"Forgive me, my Lord, but you won't get any answers from her if she dies," Chiara ventured in a timid voice. He waved her away, his anger having spent itself in the attack on his helpless victim.

He leaned back down and hissed, "Once again, where is the girl, Diona?"

Diona was huddled on the ground, beaten and bleeding but still not broken. She had managed to protect her face from the worst of his blows, although her left arm was clearly fractured and her breathing was uneven, indicating that he had broken at least one of her ribs. Her staff lay where it had fallen, having slipped out of her hand when he broke her arm. He smiled in satisfaction as she winced before drawing a breath to speak. "I told you, she's gone."

"Where?" he growled. He clenched his hands again as the smile fled from his face. To have been so close and to have her slip through his fingers!

"I… I don't know." Diona coughed painfully and spit blood at his feet. "I called on the Labyrinth to take her somewhere safe. Used all my magic to do it too, or I wouldn't be here," she added ruefully.

He screamed in rage and kicked the woman at his feet. She blocked the blow feebly, crying out in pain as he continued to lash out at her while screaming with inarticulate rage. Eventually, she yelled, "I wish the Goblin King would take me away, right now!"

"You BITCH!" he roared in her face. Now Jareth was sure to respond. He slapped her once again for good measure before leaning in very close to whisper, "I will find Sarah…"

"My, Lord," one of the orcs interrupted and Mathyn waved him off.

"You tell my  _brother_  that Sarah will be mine, as well as everything else he holds dear. I will have the Labyrinth, and our father's crown. Jareth will find himself kneeling at my feet." He sneered down at the woman who looked up at him with her wide brown eyes finally full of fear.

"My, Lord," the orcs said again, urgently. Mathyn snapped around to face the creatures in irritation.

"What?"

"We must go, before the Goblin King comes."

As if on cue, Jareth appeared not far off. He saw the group in front of the cottage and began striding towards them, his hands already forming crystals as he came, dressed in his armour and exuding the power of the Goblin King.

Swiftly, Mathyn bent down to Diona once again. "Give my brother the message. I will find where you sent Sarah, you and Jareth cannot hide her from me forever." With that he stood, smirked at the approaching Goblin King, and gave him a mocking bow before dropping a crystal of his own on the ground.

* * *

Jareth had not slept well the night before, having fallen asleep in the library, hunched over a book. He recalled snatches of a most interesting dream regarding Sarah, but nothing more, although he had tried. He had been relaxing after yet another grueling session spent channeling magic into the Labyrinth when the summons came. It did not have the usual flavor of a wished away child. This was more like an echo from his past mixed with the terror of a subject. Regardless, he could not ignore such a call.

With a groan at his still sore muscles, Jareth rose and dropped a crystal to take him where he needed to go and dress him in the appropriate attire as he went. He appeared in the woods of the southern Labyrinth and for a moment his heart leaped and his mind jumped to Sarah.  _She wished for me,_ he thought. But he quickly dismissed that thought. It had not been Sarah's voice that had called out to him, but another that he remembered from far further in his past. He saw a cottage close by and a group of figures in front of it. He could not make out the identities of the creatures standing there right away, but as he drew closer, he realized that they were orcs.

_What in all the Seven Hells is going on here?_  His mind refused to accept the fact for a moment. It was impossible. Orcs in the Labyrinth! The very idea was laughable, but there was no mistaking them. He began to prepare for battle, summoning several crystals as he strode quickly toward the enemy. Hand to hand, Jareth would have been hard pressed to defend himself against the two orcs, but he was in the Labyrinth, and he certainly didn't have to fight them hand to hand here. Suddenly, another figure came into view, rising from a crouch next to the orcs. The dark hair and piercing blue eyes of the Fae struck Jareth like a blow. His face was as familiar to Jareth as his own.

Jareth's mind screamed in rage but he was outwardly calm. He stepped up his pace, steeling himself to meet the group head on. Before he could take more than a few more steps, Mathyn smirked and bowed derisively before the entire area was suffused with thick black smoke. Mocking laughter came from inside the cloud and Jareth broke into a run. By the time he reached the cottage, the smoke was beginning to dissipate and there was no one there but an old woman, lying on the ground.

Jareth knelt over the woman and gently helped her sit up. She had been badly beaten and would require medical care. He looked closer and was surprised that he knew her. "Diona!? What happened here? What are you doing in the Labyrinth?"

Diona wheezed as she carefully climbed to her feet, leaning heavily on his supporting arm as well as her staff. "Jareth, my boy. I am glad to see you. Please, help me into the house, would you?"

He allowed her to lean on his arm as she hobbled into the house. The place was trashed and Diona scowled in anger and frustration. "Look at this mess! No respect! No respect for an old woman and her things. Help me sit, there's a good boy. Fetch me that flask there, on the floor by the hearth."

Bemused, Jareth immediately fell back on old patterns as he did what she asked of him. He helped her sit in a chair that stood near the table and retrieved the flask for her, standing silently while she took a large gulp of the contents. He waited until she regained some color in her pale face before he spoke again. "Diona, what are you doing here?"

"I live here, of course."

"I can see that," Jareth answered testily. "You know that isn't what I meant. That kind of misdirection might have worked when I was a boy, but it will not work now. I am not some child begging for sweets."

Diona sighed. Some of the pain appeared to leave her as she was briefly suffused in a pink and blue glow that indicated the use of magic. When she spoke again, her voice was less strained and stronger than it had been. "Too true, Jareth. My apologies, Goblin King." She stood and bowed low before him.

He immediately sprang forward to stop her. "You don't bow to me, you know that. You bow to no one. Even if that weren't true, your injuries are far too severe for me to allow that kind of behavior." As if to underscore his point, he dropped a crystal at his feet. In seconds, his intimidating armour was replaced by a grey poets shirt and deep green pants that were tucked into his customary knee high boots. A black vest fit snugly across his chest.

"Well then sonny, don't try and pull rank on me," she said humorously, shaking her head at him. He looked far less like a king than he had only a few moments ago, although he would never lose that regal bearing that seemed to be so ingrained in the men of his family. The only visible sign of his rank was his ever present pendant, gleaming dully on his chest "As to what happened, I should think that was obvious. Your brother paid me a call, and he brought some of his new friends to play."

"That traitor is no kin of mine," Jareth snarled. "What did he want?"

Diona eyed him for a moment before she replied. "He wanted Sarah."

Jareth paled. "She was here? Where is she? Has he taken her?" He appeared ready to dash out the door any second. Diona held up a hand and beckoned him closer before standing up and shuffling to the hearth. Once there, she easily lifted the stone that concealed the items she and Sarah had just hidden an hour ago.

"Calm yourself, Jareth. He has not. I sent her away when it became clear we couldn't escape together." She rummaged around in the hidden storage space, taking out several items and placing them into a bag while Jareth fidgeted nearby. Jareth watched with some interest while she worked. That stone should have been far too heavy for her to lift, even if she hadn't just sustained a beating that resulted in several broken bones.

Eventually, he lost the battle to remain calm. "Where did you send her?" he asked eagerly.

Diona ceased her packing and sat back on her heels, staring into the dead coals from last nights fire. "I don't know. I simply asked the Labyrinth to take her somewhere safe. Then I called up my magics and let the Labyrinth take her. I didn't even have time to explain," she said sadly. She held out a hand and Jareth automatically moved forward to help her onto her feet once again.

Even as he helped the old woman stand and make her way back to the table, Jareth ground his teeth in frustration. Sarah was in danger and he was still no closer to finding her.  _She will drive me mad,_ he thought. _I must find her and get her out of my realm before I go insane with worry about what she could be doing._  Diona, sorting through some jars, interrupted his seething when she spoke again.

"Mathyn left a message for you."

Jareth cursed. "Let him keep his damn message. I want none of it. That fucking bastard can slink back into whatever hole he's been hiding in all these years."

"Jareth!" she rebuked him, not even bothering to look up from the task she was engaged in. "You know very well that he is as legitimate as you. I will not hear you speak of your Lady mother in that fashion! Now, stop thinking like a spoiled child and start thinking like a king with an entire realm to safeguard. You need to know what he said. If for no other reason than that it gives you a window into his mind. Think, boy, think! I thought that your father had taught you better than that."

Jareth pressed his lips together grimly and looked slightly shamefaced but nodded for her to continue.

"He said that he will find Sarah and she will be his. He plans to lay claim to the Labyrinth and your father's crown. He wants you kneeling at his feet in chains. He is dangerous, Jareth. He wants everything that you have and more. You must not let him get to Sarah." She looked around, as if trying to think of anything else she should pack, before tying the neck of the bag closed.

Jareth had turned white at the threat but he looked sharply at Diona when she once again mentioned Sarah. "What does he want with Sarah? For that matter, what is  _your_  interest in her, Diona?"

"I imagine," Diona said looking at him in a direct fashion. "That he wants her because you do. He always was covetous and jealous, even as a child."

Jareth brushed her comments aside "What do you want with her?"

"I want to see her safe. She is... important."

"Why?" he pressed, advancing on the woman and beginning to grow angry again.

"Really, Jareth? You are going to choose to question my motives? Right now?" Diona was also growing angry. Although Jareth was the Goblin King, and would someday be the High King, she had never allowed him to push her around. It appeared that she was not about to start now.

"Yes! Right now, Diona. What is your interest in Sarah? If I didn't know better I would say that you had a hand in everything that led up to my bringing her here." Jareth was glaring at the elderly woman now, spinning crystals in his hands like he used to do when he was a child trying to intimidate someone.

"Do I need to have a reason for aiding a lost and helpless young woman? She was attacked by a manticore, Jareth! If it hadn't been for her friends, she would have been dead, a mere two hundred yards from my doorstep!" Diona shot back, once again sidestepping the accusation that he threw at her.

Jareth paled at the news. He turned from Diona to look out the window. His mind whirled.  _A manticore? No one ever escaped a manticore! Why didn't Hoggle and Didymus call for me?_  He was immediately livid at the guardians, even more so than he had been after Sarah's last visit. Then, he had tossed them all in an oubliette for a year. This time, they would be lucky if he didn't drown them in the Bog. Through the haze of his anger, his mind supplied him with another thought,  _Why didn't she call for me?_  His heart twisted and his anger dropped away as quickly as it had come. She had been in mortal danger, running for her life against something she couldn't possibly hope to battle on her own. Had she even considered calling for him? Would she really rather face death than put herself under his protection?  _She hates you, you idiot! Remember?_

When he turned back to face the old woman, he noticed her watching him narrowly, a searching look on her face, as though she had been gauging his reaction to the news. He straightened his shoulders quickly, staring defiantly at Diona.

Diona smiled at him. "Just as stubborn as you always were, Jareth."

"And you are just as manipulative and evasive," he replied sardonically.

She laughed outright at his tone and laid a soothing hand on his arm. "Let us just say that we both have Sarah's best interests at heart. Our main concern should be finding her and keeping her safe from Mathyn," her voice was persuasive and Jareth found himself thinking less of why Diona was so interested in Sarah and more of Sarah herself and what would happen should Mathyn prevail.

Rage began to build as Jareth thought of what that twisted monster would do to Sarah, should she fall into his hands. He had to find her, she wasn't safe out there alone, not if Mathyn was using orcs to search for her. Getting his temper under control, marginally, Jareth bowed respectfully to Diona and said, "Come my Lady, we must go. It isn't safe for you to stay here any longer. And there is a chance that the Labyrinth sent Sarah straight to the castle."

Diona turned and grabbed her bag and her staff with a small smile of triumph on her face. Gripping them with her free hand, she adjusted her other one, so that it was tucked into the crook of his elbow, before they both disappeared from the cottage.

* * *

Jareth and Diona appeared in the throne room. No sooner had they arrived than Jareth began bellowing for the servants, inquiring as to whether anyone had seen a young woman appear suddenly in the castle. When no one had, he ordered a full scale search of the Castle and the grounds before calling for his healer to attend to Diona's injuries. Diona looked around the throne room. It was the smaller throne room, the one used for runners. She chuckled as she watched from her seat in what was supposed to be a fire pit in the sunken center of the room, as several small goblins chased a chicken about.

Alex arrived promptly, bowing to the King before looking around the room in exasperation at the disarray and mess. "Why didn't you bring the Lady Diona to the large throne room, Majesty?"

Jareth shrugged. "Habit, I suppose."

The healer grunted in response and turned to Diona, who was sitting patiently, watching the interaction between the dark elf and the King. She was clearly taking in everything about the young elf who was rumored to be among the best healers in the realms.

Alex wore a loose fitting robe with a deep cowled hood that hung down the back. The elven healers' dark brown hair was cut short, exposing very pale skin. It was a well known fact that Jareth's court healer spent a large amount of time indoors, researching and experimenting with different ways to treat the various illnesses that could be found both Underground and Above.

Diona smiled at the young healer while she was being examined. After a few minutes Alex smiled back. Alex's eyes, with the characteristic glittering brown ring around the pupil that marked all healers, were light green and twinkled with respect when they looked upon the old woman. "My Lady, you are far tougher than you look."

Diona laughed outright. "At my age, I ought to be," she quipped.

"I would tell you to rest, but something tells me that you wouldn't listen. Besides, you have done an admirable job of patching yourself up. Clearly, you are no stranger to the healing arts. Just be gentle with the broken bones for a while. Would you like me to treat the bruises so that they disappear?" The light, soothing voice of the healer betrayed no hint of the dark elf's background, or from which kingdom the healer hailed.

As Alex spoke, an emissary from the Court entered the throne room, bearing a sealed envelope for Jareth. The emissary was clearly unimpressed at being shown to the small, and frankly dirty, throne room used only for entertaining runners. The woman might as well have had her nose stuck in the air as she looked around in disgust at the mess made by the small goblins. They generally had the run of the room. Jareth had found it was easier giving them free riegn here. It kept them out of the rest of the castle, while keeping them happy and out of the way of the rest of the court. Taking the envelope, Jareth dismissed the woman with courteous thanks. When she had left, tripping over a chicken on her way out the door, Jareth broke the seal and quickly read over the contents before cursing fluently.

"I don't think so, Alex, I have a feeling that the bruises will come in handy. If I need your assistance with them later, then I will be sure to visit your offices," Diona finally answered the healer. Alex prudently withdrew, after reminding Diona to be careful, and visit anytime she felt uncomfortable.

Diona rose from the seat she had occupied and approached Jareth where he sat, slumped at the window overlooking the Labyrinth. "What does the Council want?"

Jareth looked at her sharply, "How did you know it was from the Council?"

"The seal," she replied simply, shooing an inquisitive little goblin away from her skirts. Jareth nodded.

"I am to appear before the Council to answer for my involvement with 'the runner' as well as the state of the Labyrinth. I am also instructed to prepare myself to receive the decree of the Council concerning my future. All under the orders of that slimy bastard Diermuid." Jareth scrubbed a hand over his eyes tiredly. "I don't need this right now."

Diona patted his arm comfortingly. "I will go with you."

Jareth looked sharply at her. "Why?"

Diona smiled, "Because, you will need someone there who can back up your claims about Mathyn. You will also need someone who the Council will not dare to cross, at least, not too far," she amended.

Jareth sighed and stood. Dropping a crystal at their feet, he had them cleaned up and appropriately dressed to face the Council. He had on a formal dark green coat and a white cravat over the green pants he had already been wearing. She was now dressed comfortably in something she had not worn in years. A white robe, much like the one the healer had been wearing but gathered at the waist with an intricately embroidered belt in a blue and silver motif. The belt was held together by a pin, exactly like the one that she had pinned to Sarah's cloak, only much larger. The hem and sleeve edges were embroidered in the exact same pattern of blues and silvers as the belt that encircled her waist, as was the cowled hood that hung down her back. "Let's go then," Jareth grumbled.

"How many times did I tell you not to do that when you were younger, Jareth? Just because you  _can_ , doesn't mean you  _should_." Diona said, looking down at her new garments uneasily.

"Do what?" he asked innocently. "Is there a problem?"

"Flamboyantly change people's clothes using free magic. It makes some people very nervous," she told him primly. "And there isn't anything wrong with the clothing, I just wasn't expecting to be suddenly dressed in differently. It has been so long since I've had need of these that I've nearly forgotten what they looked like." Her voice lost it's scolding edge and she smoothed her wrinkled hand over the edging on her sleeve as she said it.

He laughed. "Really, Diona? You find it nerve wracking? I used to do much worse." He held out his arm for her and transported them to a hallway in the main part of the castle. They stood in front of a heavy door, guarded by elite Hobgoblins. As soon as Jareth and Diona appeared, the guards brought their fists crashing across their chests in salute. Jareth nodded to the guards and one of them opened the door before bowing, along with the other.

Jareth and Diona stepped into a room full of what, at first glance, might have been paintings or perhaps windows. Each of the massive frames stood far taller than Jareth and could easily allow three people to stand comfortably in front of them. Most of the frames appeared to be empty, framing nothing more than the stone wall upon which they had been hung. However, several of them were not, and showed various scenes, almost universally indoors and devoid of any main focus. An astute observer would have been able to see that the images in the pictures actually moved.

Jareth led Diona over to the frame that held the image of the arrival hall in Fialis. As they watched through the portal, a servant scurried across the frame bearing a tray of refreshments. Jareth straightened his spine and his bearing became even more regal. He once again offered Diona his arm. She tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and Jareth and wordlessly walked her straight into the portal.

* * *

They exited the portal and were immediately greeted by Theodas, Cieran's secretary. The old elf bowed low before Jareth. "Your Highness." When Theodas rose, Jareth raised an eyebrow at him and the old man smiled sheepishly. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, old habits die hard." He turned to Diona and stopped short, his polite greeting cut off before he even began to speak.

For several seconds, he stared in awe at Diona who smiled at him, but shook her head to indicate that he need not take official notice of her. "Well met, Theodas," she said to him. "Please, none of your fussing and propriety. I prefer to remain anonymous for as long as I possibly can."

"You know that the Council will not allow you to retain that anonymity for long, My Lady."

Diona sighed, "That is only too true, Theodas, so I would prefer to hold on to it for a few more minutes, if you please."

"As you wish, My Lady. Now, if you will both follow me, I will take you to the Council Chamber." He gestured toward the door on their left and they all moved out of the arrival hall.

Theodas led them through the corridors of the palace, toward the Council Chambers. Behind them, they left a trail of servants and minor nobles alike, whispering in shock and awe at the sight of the white clad old woman. She bore it stoically and took no notice.

As they strode through the Palace, Theodas spoke in a low voice. "You mother wished me to meet you when you arrived, Your Majesty and let you know that she and your father are not pleased with Diermuid for summoning you. She told me to tell you, in confidence, that Diermuid and your honored father got into an extremely heated argument about an hour ago." Jareth nodded as they arrived in the antechamber of the Council hall. From the noise inside, it appeared that the Council was already present and in session. Theodas bowed once again and leaned toward Jareth, speaking in a low tone. "She also bid me to remind you that you are not without friends and allies here, no matter how this session falls out."

Jareth blinked in astonishment as Theodas finished speaking. The old elf bowed once more and, after asking if they wished to be announced to the Council, left them standing there in the middle of the room. Jareth turned and looked at the massive doors that separated the antechamber from the Council Chamber itself. They were adorned with carvings that showed mountains, woodlands, deserts, plains, and oceanic scenes. Massively intricate, they were a stunning work of art and Jareth had spent days studying them as a child. Now, he barely noticed them.

It appeared that he was facing some serious challenges before the council today, if his mother had felt the need to tack that last bit on to the message that she sent with Theodas. For just a moment, Jareth wanted to turn around and walk away from it all. He shouldn't be here, pandering to the Council, he needed to be out there finding Sarah and working to repair the Labyrinth. However, the feeling passed as swiftly as it came over him. He couldn't afford to offend the entire Council, or else the friends and allies his mother spoke of would evaporate faster than rain in the southern desert. Jareth set his jaw grimly and straightened his coat before offering his elbow to Diona once again.

Diona held him back for a moment as he made to stride toward the doors of the Council Chamber. "Remember, Jareth, you must hold your temper, no matter what. You are the equal to every king in there, aside from your father. Why you choose not to claim your seat on the Council is beyond me, but never forget that you could take up that seat, at any moment."

He looked down at her in surprise. He had nearly forgotten that he was, or should be, a member of the Council. He had always thought that his role as the Goblin King, and thus, protector of the Labyrinth, was far more important. Perhaps it was time to reconsider. He nodded once, tightly, and then led her to the doors, throwing them wide and striding into the shocked silence that suddenly descended on the room beyond.

* * *

"Diona!" Sarah cried out as the scene before her eyes began to fade to black. There was the terrible sensation of the ground dropping out from under her feet and then nothingness for a moment. Sarah squeezed her eyes shut as a sense of vertigo overcame her. Then, she landed hard on her backside and her eyes popped open.

She was alone in a sea of waving grass. Sarah struggled to her feet and spun in a circle, hoping to see some sort of landmark to tell her roughly where she was. There was nothing as far as the eye could see but gently rolling hills covered in standing brown hay. The sun beat down on her unprotected head and Sarah squinted, bringing her hand up to shade her eyes in the hopes of being able to spot something in the distance.

"Where am I now?" she wailed to the surrounding hills. There was no answer save a faint echo of her own voice that bounced back from the nearby hillsides. Sarah closed her eyes.  _Be strong and live in the moment, be strong, be strong,_  she chanted to herself. When she felt calmer, she opened her eyes again. Sarah hesitated to go anywhere. Surely Diona would follow as soon as she could. The grassland seemed to stretch on and on in all directions. Even if she knew which way to go, there was no way she would reach any sort of shelter before nightfall.

_Might as well stay put for the moment_ , Sarah thought to herself.

She looked once again to the horizon in all directions. There, to the south, was a dust cloud. At first Sarah simply watched it idly, not really registering it's existence. When she realized that is was not just a trick of the wind but was made by a group of creatures traveling toward her, she looked around in panic for a place to hide. Seeing nothing better than the tall grass she was standing in, Sarah dropped flat to her stomach and hoped that she had not been noticed.

Her hope was short lived. Within minutes there was a thunder of hooves approaching the place where she cowered. Sarah huddled under her green cloak and held her breath, willing them to miss her entirely in the tall grass. She could feel the vibration of each hoof striking the ground as the unknown riders approached, and then stopped.

"Get up," a stern, heavily accented voice ordered. Cringing slightly, Sarah obeyed and came face to face with the group of riders that had found her.  _No,_  her confused mind amended as she noted the creatures before her,  _not riders. Centaurs._


	13. The Unclaimed Seat

**Disclaimer -** Last night I threw a penny in a wishing well. I guess I should have thrown a twenty, because I still don't own the Labyrinth.

**Warning:**  Just a warning for some harsh language and gestures. Nothing to fret about, really. Enjoy the chapter! Cheers!

* * *

"All right, Diermuid, why are we here… again?" Twylithia was clearly annoyed at having been called back to Fialis. The Queen of the Dark Elves was once again pacing around the Council Chamber, the heels of her boots slamming on the marble floor. The sway of her hips caused the jeweled hilt of the dagger, which she customarily wore strapped to her leather clad thigh, to glint in the light streaming in through the large windows. Andris watched her for a moment and then glanced guiltily at Rhiannon, who looked at him in mock severity before giving him a subtle wink.

"I called everyone together to hear the complaint that I have to level against the Goblin King for his…"

"Diermuid!" The voice of the High King was calm, but the steel in his tone shocked the assembled monarchs. "You saw fit to call him before the Council, so now you will wait until the Goblin King arrives to answer the accusations."

The King of the Wood Elves looked irritated but immediately sat in his seat and pressed his mouth into a thin, unattractive line.  _If only he could be trained to do that all the time_ , Andris thought. He wondered idly whether or not he could get a motion pushed through the Council to limit the number of words Diermuid spoke during Council sessions. Two hundred words would be just about as much as he could handle personally, although he supposed he could ask the others what they thought a fair allotment would be.

An uncomfortable silence had descended on the room. Twylithia resumed her seat, crossing her legs casually but continuing to bounce one foot rhythmically. She really hated to sit still. The noise of the sea pounding on the cliffs outside was unnaturally loud until Helimar cleared his throat and stood.

All eyes turned to the Dark Elven King. Today, the dark skinned elf was dressed in light grey breeches and a light grey cloak that hung down his back. His sleeveless ivory tunic left his arms bare, putting the intricate tattoo's encircling his huge biceps on display. He was wearing plain silver wrist cuffs and silver bands encircled his upper arms, running through the tattoo's and providing a stunning contrast with the dark lines of the ink. A silver torque nestled around his throat and a silver clasp held his dark hair back at the nape of his neck. Andris couldn't help but compare his look to Diermuid's. The other elven king did not compare favorably to his counterpart, looking rather pasty and ill in his brightly colored clothing.

"Since we are waiting for the arrival of the Goblin King, and we have been given this unexpected… opportunity," Helimar said diplomatically with a small nod to Diermuid. "There is something that I wish to bring to the attention of the Council."

"Go ahead," Cieran said. Andris detected a note of relief in his friend's voice. He couldn't blame him for feeling that way. This meeting was likely to devolve into pure hell once Jareth arrived. To have the entire Council sitting here, waiting for him to show up because Cieran had insisted on it, was going to fray tempers mighty quick. Far better that they had something to talk about until then.

"As you requested, Cieran, we have begun the census to find out if the Dark Elven Kingdom is falling victim to the same plague of missing person's as Avalon."

"That's nice," Shaylee muttered in irritation, only to fall silent at being the recipient of a withering stare from Twylithia. Shaylee settled for rolling her eyes rather than continuing her thought.

Nothing in the Dark Elven King's demeanor suggested that Shaylee's comment had even been registered by the imperturbable elf. Such barbs never penetrated Helimar's self possession. Andris admired this. He himself had, on occasion, tried to rile up the large elf, just to see if it could be done. He had not been any more successful than the Fairy Queen. Helimar continued speaking as though Shaylee had not tried to provoke him. "We have only begun that task, however, we have been hearing rumors of a group calling themselves 'The Collective'."

Andris sat forward in his chair, his interest piqued. So, too, did several other members of the Council. "What is the significance of the group?"

"We don't know, as yet. We have no idea of the extent of the group, nor what their aim is. We only have the rumors and this." Helimar placed a piece of cloth on the table in front of Conor. The King of Avalon examined it closely and then passed it on. When it came to Andris he looked at it closely, but could find nothing extraordinary about it. The ends of the black band had been sewn together so that it could be worn as an armband. In the center was what looked like the representation of some sort of green gemstone with an eye embedded in it. The stone was set in the midst of a flaming circle. Andris shrugged and passed it on.

When everyone had examined the strange symbol on the cloth, Cieran looked around the table. "Has anyone else seen anything like this?"

"I may have," said the King of Avalon. "But to be honest, I didn't really pay it much attention at the time. I can't think where I came across it though." Conor looked troubled as he passed the armband to his wife.

"Anyone else?"

Andris thought hard, but couldn't remember ever seeing that particular symbol. He stroked his greying beard as he thought about it. Maybe when he had visited that tavern in the east mountains? Hmmm. Perhaps. "Perhaps I have," he said. "But like Conor, I didn't pay it any mind at the time."

"Where did you get it?" Cieran asked, gesturing to the scrap of cloth that now lay crumpled in the center of the table.

"We were going through the city for the census. One of the sergeants in the City Guard came across a group of elves hidden in a house. They were all wearing these armbands. Under questioning, none of them told us anything more than that they were the Collective." Helimar spread his hands helplessly. "Without proof of wrongdoing, we had no reason to hold them. We released them, despite the dubious appearance of the group."

Cieran and the rest of the Council discussed the possible motives of the group for a few minutes, but as they had so little information, they had to drop the subject. Cieran ordered them to check with local law enforcement in their cities to see if the members of this group had been causing any trouble.

When the discussion about the strange group was concluded, the room once again grew silent for a few moments before several smaller discussions broke out among the various rulers gathered. Rather than join in any of the discussions, Andris amused himself with watching Diermuid slowly lose his temper at the delay.

After nearly fifteen minutes of independent discussions, and many sly glances exchanged between Andris and Rhiannon, who was also watching Diermuid lose his cool, the Wood Elven King finally shot to his feet. Andris smiled in satisfaction and sat back in his chair to watch the show.

"My fellow Council members," Diermuid began pompously, "My purpose in calling you all here today was not just to inquire into the state of the Goblin Kingdom. As I respect both my sovereign and my fellow monarch, the Goblin King, I will put aside those inquiries until such a time as the Crown Prince chooses to grace us with his presence."

Andris, who was sitting to Cieran's right, leaned forward slightly to smirk at Rhiannon. She nodded slightly and flicked a glance up at her husband. Andris took the hint and looked up at his friends face. Cieran's jaw was set and he was grinding his teeth so badly that they could both hear the scraping sounds.

The Dwarven King sighed and sat back in his chair. Cieran might currently be at odds with Jareth but Andris knew that he loved the boy to distraction, and what was happening right now in this Council chamber was a parent's worst nightmare. Yet another facet of his son's future was about to be decided for him in the interest of the greater good of the Realms. In order to preserve his political standing, Cieran would also have to entertain Diermuid's complaints against Jareth for his stewardship of the Goblin Kingdom. To ignore a complaint from a Council member was to invite further dissent in the Underground, and that was something that Cieran could ill afford at present. Andris clenched his fists. Jareth was an idiot and had gotten himself into this mess, mooning over that girl despite repeated attempts by his family and friends to warn him. But, that did not mean that he deserved to be served up on a silver platter to whatever sniveling little prat Diermuid had managed to dig up.

"I also have happy news to impart to you all," Diermuid continued waving Shaylee over to the doors. Andris was surprised to see her move with alacrity as she slipped out of the room.. She was never one to enjoy being ordered around, and she was not fond of Diermuid, either. To have her scurry to do his bidding was... odd. "I have found the perfect bride for the Crown Prince!"

At his declaration, the doors opened and two people stepped into the Council Chamber, followed by the Fairy Queen, who said, "May I present my chief advisor, Lord Gethin, and his daughter, the Lady Belinda."

Both newcomers bowed and then retired modestly to sit at the side of the room in chairs that had been carried in for them. When they had been seated, Cieran stood.

"Thank you for joining us Lady Belinda, Lord Gethin. I hope that you understand that you are here only under consideration as a bride for my son, not at his intended." Cieran spoke to the young Fae woman. She inclined her head in acknowledgement.

"I am honored by Your Majesty's consideration."

Diermuid glared at Cieran before addressing the Council again. "I assure you that you will find no one better to provide the Kingdom with another heir in the line of succession as quickly as possible. Given the uncertain times we are living in, I thought it prudent to waste no time in selecting a bride for Jareth."

"You were actually serious about that nonsense?" Twylithia asked. She was lounging in her chair sharpening her dagger as she spoke. "I thought you were just talking for the sake of trying to get us to forget that Jareth has supposedly fallen for a mortal girl." The sound of the whetstone against her blade was as chilling as her manner. Andris recalled that Twylithia definitely disapproved of Diermuids' prejudicial opinions when it came to humans, mortals and women. He grinned as he watched the effect of her actions on Diermuid.

Diermuid's countenance portrayed shock at the suggestion, but his eyes were hard as he watched the movements of Twylithia's blade. "Certainly not! I assure you that I was perfectly serious. It was my intent to secure the line of succession for yet another generation." Despite his bold words, Andris watched him swallow hard, his eyes never leaving the blade.

"What's wrong with Jareth making his own choice?" the dwarf finally spoke up. "Seems to me that the boy himself should be the one to tell us whether or not the Lady is worth marrying."

"Well, hold on a moment," Conor said. "I'm not saying that Jareth shouldn't have a say, but since he hasn't shown any inclination to settle down thus far, I think that Diermuid might be onto something here."

Andris opened his mouth to reply but closed it again when Twylithia spoke up once more. "As much as it pains me to appear to side with Diermuid, we probably  _are_  going to have to give Jareth a little push into his marital bed. But I don't see why it has to be with this girl specifically. No offense meant." She nodded in the direction of Lord Gethin and his daughter before returning her eyes to her task. "There are plenty of women out there, why don't we set him up with a few of them?

Helimar spoke softly but clearly. "I think you are forgetting something, my dear. Jareth has a bit of a reputation." He grinning tightly. "A well earned reputation, but a reputation none-the-less."

"Your point being?" Rhiannon spoke sharply.

"Forgive my bluntness, Your Majesty. The point is that if we give your son too many options, he is likely to spend the next several centuries dragging this out."

Andris was getting frustrated. He didn't want to see Jareth pushed into this any more than most of the Council did, but they could continue to dance around this issue for several more years without coming to any consensus. They didn't actually have that kind of time. Andris knew they were going to have to throw Diermuid a bone if they intended to win the larger battle over the complaint about Jareth's stewardship of the Labyrinth. A solution must be decided on today, preferably before Jareth arrived. The Dwarf King debated what to say, as the rest of the Council continued to argue around him about the merits of various plans and women. Finally, he hit upon a solution that he thought would keep everyone happy, or at least, make everyone feel equally cheated of a victory. He waited for the next lull in the conversation before slapping his hand on the table with a heavy thunk.

"I have it!" he crowed, as though he had just thought of the solution that he had spent the last five or ten minutes mulling over. A little showmanship never hurt. When he had everyone's attention he continued, waving his hand in the direction of Lady Belinda. "Why don't we have Jareth court the girl, with the understanding that the courtship can be broken after a decent amount of time, and Council approval, should they not find themselves compatible?"

Diermuid looked like he wanted to throttle him but the rest of the Council was nodding in approval of the plan. A quick look around the table showed that everyone seemed to have accepted his suggestion. Satisfied, Andris settled back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully and wondering how well this plan would actually work when it came to Jareth following through.

"I think we should publish the banns and announce their engagement," Shaylee insisted, breaking Andris' train of thought. She smiled sweetly at the rest of the Council. "Just to give Jareth that extra incentive to court Lady Belinda properly."

_That just might force Jareth to attend to the courtship_ , Andris mused. Although there was some murmuring, no one objected outright. All eyes at the table went to Cieran, who reluctantly nodded and began to speak before the doors of the Council Chamber were thrown open and Jareth himself strode in.

* * *

As Jareth made his perfunctory bow to the assembled Council, Rhiannon rose to greet him, but stopped short at the sight of Diona. There was a noticeable intake of breath throughout the room as the attention of the Council was arrested by the sight of the elderly Fae in the blue trimmed white robe. The large silver pin, with it's distinctive knot and deep blue gem flashed at her waist as Diona stepped further into the room, releasing Jareth's arm. Jareth stepped back slightly, allowing Diona to precede him into the Council Chamber, her staff tapping on the floor as she went.

The entire Council rose from their seats and bowed low to Diona who waved her hand irritably at them all. "Stop that. I seem to recall that the last time I was in this room, some of you were less inclined to show me so much respect. I didn't come so you could all bow and scrape and treat me like some rediscovered relic." Her voice was sharp but her eyes sparkled mischievously at the High King and his Queen before moving on to the rest of the Council. When her eyes fell on Andris, she grinned and he winked cheekily back at her.

Cieran stepped around his chair and come toward Diona and Jareth, followed by his wife. He stopped several feet away and bowed low before her again. "Forgive us, Revered Priestess, it has been many years since we heard any news of you, and more still since you graced us with your presence. We feared that you had passed on to the next world."

"Harrumph," she grumbled. "I simply grew tired of all the bickering and dissent. Besides, most of the Council seemed unwilling to listen to the perspective of an old woman. I decided not to waste my time any longer."

Jareth listened with interest. He knew that Diona had left Fialis around the same time that he had taken up his throne in the Goblin Kingdom, but he had never heard why she had decided to walk away from her advisory position on the Council. He had been too busy settling into his new home to pay all that much attention to the goings on in Fialis.

His father made a sweeping gesture with his right hand that encompassed the entire room. "We value the counsel of the Holy Priestess and regret that we have been bereft of your guidance these many years. Come, join us once again. We crave the wisdom of the last Priestess of the Croí Foinse and are honored by your return.

"A pretty speech, Cieran," Diona said dismissively. "I am not inclined to return. However, I believe that I can be of assistance to you all once again in the coming months, so I will consider it."

As his father stepped back, Jareth's mother stepped forward, greeting Diona with far more affection and less pomp than the High king had. "My dear Diona, how are you? Oh, it has been years! But you must tell me what has happened to you, you look terrible!"

Diona chuckled at the unintended insult of the High Queen's words. "Why thank you Rhiannon, it's nice to see you too."

Rhiannon's hands flew to her cheeks and Jareth heard Andris chuckle. "Oh I'm so sorry, I didn't mean…" her voice trailed off as Diona waved a hand and moved forward, chuckling, to envelop the slender Fae Queen in a warm hug.

Jareth looked past the two women to the rest of the Council. His father nodded at him, barely acknowledging his presence. Jareth decided that it would be prudent to inform them all of the raid on the Labyrinth before Diermuid had a chance to start hurling his weight around. "Father." Jareth bowed once again. "I bring troubling news. Mathyn has turned up in the Labyrinth, with a band of orcs, making threats and abusing the residents of my kingdom." He gestured to Diona, who's bruises were livid and frightening in the bright sunlight. Rhiannon, who was helping Diona to her seat gasped at the news and her face paled.

The face of the High King grew bleak upon hearing the news, and the rest of the Council broke out in exclamations of anger. Only Diermuid looked as though the news wasn't quite the worst thing he had heard in years. "While I am truly sorry…" he said and then waited. When the rest of the Council grew silent he continued. "I am truly sorry for the Holy Priestess' pain and suffering. However, if Diona comes before the Council seeking redress, then I am afraid that she will be disappointed, as the missing Prince has not been seen in years. Unless she wishes to lodge a formal complaint against the Goblin King." His voice was slightly hopeful.

Jareth stood rigid, glaring at Diermuid, while Diona laughed. "Dear me, no. Jareth is a good boy and came to my rescue when I called on him to do so. He is not at fault for today's events and I have no complaint against him."

Diermuid looked slightly crestfallen but not really surprised at her answer. Jareth used the time to observe the reactions and interactions of the Council narrowly. He was at a disadvantage. Had he been occupying his seat on the Council, he would have been aware of the current political standings of everyone in the room. He would know whose interests lined up with his own and which ruler's would side with Diermuid. Without such inside knowledge, Jareth would have to be very careful. He would need all his skills of observation and diplomacy to to successfully navigate his way through this meeting.

"Well then," Diermuid continued. "Since there is little we can do about the actions of the disaffected Prince, might we move along with the actual reason this meeting was called?"

"No, we may not, Diermuid. A raid into the Labyrinth is a very serious matter and needs to be discussed," Twylithia snapped, glancing at the head of the table for confirmation.

Cieran nodded grimly and turned to Gethin and his daughter. "If you would both excuse us, the Council has some business to attend to. We will summon you when we have concluded our discussion on this matter. Gethin and Belinda rose and bowed to the High King before quietly exiting the room. When the doors to the Council Chamber had closed behind the Fairy Kingdom advisor and his daughter, Cieran turned to Jareth while Diermuid seethed. "Jareth, what do you know about this raid? How many were there and what was their purpose?"

"I do not know the full count of the raiding party. I saw only two orcs and Mathyn himself. General Ethan responded to the warning of intruders initially. When I have time to hear his report I will know more. I came on the scene only after Diona called upon me. Apparently, she has been living quietly in the southern portion of the Labyrinth for some time without my knowledge, although she should have known that she was welcome in the Goblin City. Indeed, in the castle itself, if she so wished."

Jareth shot a glance at the Priestess, knowing full well why she had not made her presence known to him. She had some involvement with Sarah. He did not know what Diona's motives were, but Jareth wanted no interference from the Council while he figured out what he was going to do next. Diona's eyes twinkled as she returned his look. A small smile told him that she had noticed the deliberate way in which he turned the attention of the Council away from the second half of Cieran's question, and that she approved.

Diermuid cut in. Turning to the Council he sneered, "It is as I said, he has been neglecting the Labyrinth and it has attracted the attention of the enemy. He didn't even bother investigating the breach himself. Regardless of who the victim was today, you can be sure that they will eventually come in force. With the Labyrinth crumbling what will be left to stop them?"

"I am working to remedy the situation, even now," Jareth said calmly, despite his seething anger at the Wood Elven King's presumptuous attitude. "I sent General Ethan to respond to the summons because I had just finished repairs on yet another section of the Labyrinth. Even now, the work continues in my absence, although admittedly, it goes slower without my help." Jareth winced inwardly as he said this but stared imperiously around the Council table, hoping to drive home the point that he was displeased to have been pulled away from his kingdom to answer the Council's inquiry. He knew that they could not be making much headway in the actual rebuilding without him, although the crews were moving through the Labyrinth on cleanup duty at a startling pace.

"How bad is the damage?" Twilithia wanted to know. Jareth shifted his stance so that he could better see the Dark Elven Queen. He was a little irked that he had not yet been offered a seat. Rather, he was forced to remain standing off to the side, like a supplicant.  _O_ _r the accused_ , Jareth thought. The least they could have done was offer him a chair, even if it was not placed at the table.

Jareth took a deep breath, dismissing his irritation, before answering. "The damage is beyond what it should be for only a few years without regular maintenance. Something, or someone, has been eroding the foundations of the Labyrinth at an accelerated rate. There is no reason that the subterranean sections of the Labyrinth should be suffering from so much damage. This is deliberate sabotage, although I can't fathom why it should have started in the lowest tunnels." Jareth's face was a stony mask and his eyes burned coldly into each member of the Council as he gazed around the table. His demeanor defied anyone who would dare challenge his stewardship of the Labyrinth.

There was a shocked silence around the table. "How is that possible?" the King of Avalon asked. Conor was clearly upset at the news, but Jareth did not detect any hostility towards himself in the human King's tone. He cautiously added Conor to his mental list of possible allies on the Council.

Jareth shook his head. "I don't know yet."

Twilithia leaned forward and craned her neck to gaze at Jareth, who was standing to the side across the table before snapping irritably, "Would you sit already, Jareth? It is most inconvenient to try and speak to you if you continue to stand over there like a schoolboy here for chastisement."

Jareth raised his eyebrows and moved to take an empty seat between Conor and Andris. Across the table, Diermuid stood quickly. "The Council table is reserved for members of the Council only, is it not?" Although he kept his voice neutral, Jareth could see the hostility in the way Diermuid held himself rigid, crossing his arms over his chest.

Cieran also stood, glowering at the Wood Elven King. "Do you dispute the fact that the Goblin King has a right to a seat at this table?" His voice was low and dangerous. Rhiannon raised her eyebrows at her son and made a small gesture to the seat that Jareth had been about to occupy with a meaningful look.

A muscle in Diermuid's jaw began to twitch as he was stared down by the High King. The entire Council chamber seemed to hold it's breath, waiting for the Wood Elven King to react. After a tense moment, he ground out, "No. I do not dispute his right to claim his Council seat, if he so chooses."

All eyes then turned to Jareth, awaiting his decision. He considered the implications of sitting at the table. Diermuid had very cleverly chosen his words. Jareth could decline to take the offered seat, and continue to stand as an outsider in the Council chamber. Jareth was sure that this would suit Diermuid's purposes, as well as his vanity, just fine. However, if he were to accept the seat, he would also be accepting his position on the Council, something he had thus far avoided doing in favor of committing his time and attention to his Kingdom and the Labyrinth. While the Labyrinth needed him, perhaps it was time to begin looking beyond the boundaries of the Goblin Kingdom in his efforts to best protect it, and his subjects.

Jareth glanced over at Diona and was not surprised to find her eyeing him knowingly. He quirked his mouth up in a half smile to acknowledge that she was justified in her advice to him before they entered the chamber. It was time that he started behaving like the king that he was meant to be, rather than trying to replace the Lord Protector of the Labyrinth. The Fates knew that he was far more suited to the role of the King. Even the Labyrinth itself had somehow recognized this fact, and chastised him for trying to be both King and Caretaker.

Very deliberately, Jareth pulled back the chair and sat in it, keeping his eyes on Diermuid the entire time. The face of the Wood Elven King betrayed nothing of his thoughts as he watched the Goblin King claim his Council seat.

"Well, I guess that settles that question," Andris said jovially, breaking the tension that had gathered around the table. "It's about time you joined us, Jareth." There were murmurs and nods of agreement from around the table. Rhiannon's eyes were shining with pride and Cieran looked pleased. Jareth kept his face carefully neutral as he scanned the reactions of the rest of the Council. Only Diermuid looked displeased, although several others, notably Conor and Shaylee, looked as though they didn't care one way or the other.

He quickly returned his attention back to the table when Twylithia spoke again. "Jareth, you said you don't yet know how the Labyrinth has been damaged so badly, do you have any idea of why it has happened?"

Jareth leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table, folding his gloved hands together as he spoke. "I can only assume that I have enemies." Jareth flicked a glance at Diermuid before returning his gaze to the Dark Elven Queen. "Enemies, including that traitor Mathyn, that have some sort of interest in seeing the Labyrinth destroyed and my kingdom fall."

"Could it be some twisted magic of the orcs? " Conor asked.

"I've never seen them wielding anything close to the kind of magic it would take to cause sinkholes in the Labyrinth," Andris said. "It's a possible, but not likely, explanation for the erosion. Also, were they to attack magically, I doubt they would start with the lowest levels. Why not just knock down the surface walls until they made it straight to the center?"

"Perhaps Mathyn has had something to do with it. He is obviously in league with the orcs. Perhaps they have discovered a technique to eat away at the defenses around the Croí Foinse." Connor suggested.

"It is possible, I suppose." Jareth ran a hand through his hair distractedly. "But I don't want to take anything for granted. Just because it seems logical for Mathyn to be behind the damage the Labyrinth has suffered, doesn't mean that he actually is. I would rather do a thorough investigation before I lay the blame at his feet."

"Never mind why it happened. You say you can fix it, so how long will that take?" Diermuid asked snidely.

"The longer you keep me here, the longer it is going to take," Jareth said testily. "Although, I might have found a way to speed up the process."

"How so?" Cieran leaned forward, looking at his son with interest.

Jareth hesitated. Never before had a Goblin King revealed the lore of the Labyrinth to the Council. As far as Jareth had been able to learn, the fact that the Labyrinth was actually a sort of entity, not a magical construct, had been a closely guarded secret since the days of the first Lord Protector. To tell them that it was not only an entity, but seemed to be made up of many separate ones, seemed to be tantamount to a violation of some sacred trust. Although he was loath to do so, Jareth could see no other way of obtaining the help that he so desperately needed in his search for the descendants of William.

"The Labyrinth spoke to me..." Jareth began and then paused, trying to formulate words that would actually be believed.

"What do you mean the Labyrinth spoke!"

"How is that possible?"

"The Labyrinth may be powerful, but it's not alive!"

The Council Chamber erupted into chaos as everyone spoke at once; each person offering their opinion loudly and in tones of disbelief. Eventually, Cieran had to stand and shout over the noise to get everyone to calm down enough to have a rational discussion about this stunning development. Turning to his son, the High King asked, "What do you mean the Labyrinth spoke to you? How is that even possible?"

"I have known for some time that the Labyrinth is more than just a magical construct. It has a sort of... sleeping sentience... about it. This awareness spoke to me when I reached out for help with the repairs. It placed a task upon me," Jareth informed them.

While the others had listened intently to what Jareth had to say, Diermuid sat scowling at the Goblin King. Clearly disbelieving every word of what Jareth was telling the Council, Diermuid's frown only deepened as the other's listened without suspicion. When Jareth paused, he cut in disdainfully. "Do you really expect us to believe that some strange, previously unknown, entity told you to seek out the Airíoch? Do you take us for children that you try to distract us with fairytales?"

There were looks of confusion around the table as well as some murmuring. Understanding dawned across Andris' face and his eyes widened at the implications of what Diermuid had just done. "Jareth said nothing about the Airíoch, nor has he revealed the task that the Labyrinth gave him. How is it that  _you_  seem to have this information?" Diermuid looked sullenly at the Dwarven King and said nothing.

Jareth looked sharply across the table at the Wood Elven King. "You sent that elf. He was there to spy on me and my kingdom." His voice was low and dangerous. "I do not appreciate your intrusion."

Diermuid snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. "I refuse to dignify that accusation with a response," he said.

Before Jareth could stand and call the smarmy bastard out, Andris spoke up next to him. "Well, Diermuid, it seems as though he has caught you dipping your mug in the cask without leave. I certainly hope whatever information you were able to obtain was worth it."

There was a rumble of displeased muttering from around the table. Helimar looked severe and his wife shot bolt upright in her chair to glare at the Wood Elven King. "Really Diermuid? Spies? Don't you have anything better to do with your time? We have enough to deal with when it comes to the raids without you adding to the general chaos by sending spies into the kingdoms of your allies. This has gone on for far too long!" She slammed her dagger down on the table and stood. Planting her hands on either side of it. The gems on the hilt glinted as she looked up the length of the table to the High King. "Your Majesty, I request that the Council make a formal inquiry into the intelligence gathering activities of the Wood Elven Crown."

At Jareth's side, Andris chuckled and turned to Cieran. "I second that."

Across the table from Jareth, Diermuid paled and looked like a nyxie caught out in the sun. His mouth opened and closed several times but no sound emerged.

"Very well, Cieran said, a tinge of satisfaction in his voice. "I will appoint an investigator to look into the matter."

Given his rocky relationship with his father lately, Jareth had not expected the High King to back him so quickly. He looked over at his mother, surprised inquiry written all over his face. Rhiannon casually lifted one shoulder ever so slightly in a shrug and tilted her head, first toward his father and then toward Diermuid. Jareth took a deep breath and rearranged his thinking. Obviously, the tension between his father and his vassal was greater than he had thought.

At his side Andris leaned forward across the table to whisper loudly to Diermuid. "You really ought to try and hire more competent people."

* * *

Katie sat in her car outside the Williams residence, watching the house. So far, she hadn't had any luck in locating Sarah. The police officers that she had talked to in the hospital had been less than helpful, as had the sergeant she had spoken with at the local precinct. It was infuriating to Katie that no one seemed to be taking this disappearance seriously. The rest of the hospital staff, the police, and even what was left of Sarah's family seemed to just assume that, without her meds, Sarah had finally gone off the deep end. None of them had appreciated Katie's interference in the matter. Although Katie and Dr. Preston knew that Sarah had been stable before the funeral, everyone else seemed to believe that someone with Sarah's history had simply buckled under the pressure of the tragedy.

When she had pointed out that fact, the investigating officers had been skeptical. Before they had shut her out of the investigation, they told her that everyone they spoke to that had attended the funeral of Richard Williams had told them that Sarah had been displaying some extremely odd behavior. Many of the mourners had felt that she was, in fact, not as stable as the good doctor thought.

She had tried pushing the police to take the investigation more seriously, but Katie had hit a brick wall. Sarah was an adult, they told her. She was entitled to disappear if she wished. She was not thought to be a danger to herself, or anyone else. Even her family thought that she had just gone off on her own, they pointed out. When Katie had argued against this theory, she had been told, politely but firmly, that she needed to mind her own business and let them conduct the search as they and the family saw fit.

"Yeah," Katie muttered to herself as she sat in the car, sipping her increasingly cold coffee. " _Investigation_ … more like a cover up."

When Katie herself had gone to speak to the cleric that had been at the gravesite, he had confirmed what she heard from the police. Sarah had been confused and unhinged in the cemetery. He told Katie that Sarah had seemed agitated and unable to keep her attention on what was going on around her. In hushed tones, he related what he had seen that day. Sarah had spoken wildly about things that weren't there and had threatened to "kill him", although the cleric didn't know who she had been talking about, as there were no men present. He had assumed that she was speaking about the deceased. Leaning forward, he confessed to Katie that he had left the area as quickly as he reasonably could after Karen began screaming at her stepdaughter. He had seen Karen slap Sarah, but nothing more. Katie ended the interview and left shortly afterwards.

_Some cleric he was_ , Katie thought, finishing off her coffee. Although he had failed in his role as a cleric, he was somewhat more helpful as a witness. His account reinforced Katie's theory that Karen Williams had something to do with Sarah's disappearance. Armed with this information, she had decided to spend her day off watching Sarah's childhood home for anything that looked suspicious. So far, there hadn't been anything out of the ordinary to see.

Idly, Katie reached over to the stack of books she had in the passenger seat of her car. She had gone to the library yesterday and checked out a number of books. She picked up the top one and read the title again: "Gifted - A guide for Mediums, Psychics and Intuitives". Under that was one called: "Supernatural Encounters". There were also several books on the occult as well as several more on mythical beings. Looking them over, Katie desperately wished that her grandmother was still among the living. It would have been so much easier if she were able to go to her for some of this information, rather than wade through all these books. While her grandmother might not have been able to tell her much about mythical beings, she was sure to have been a veritable font of information concerning her supposed "abilities".

Katie looked up as a bus passed by. She was waiting for Toby to get home from school so she could talk to him. Earlier this afternoon, Katie had knocked on the door of the Williams' home, hoping to talk to Karen. She had rung the bell and waited. No one had answered, so Katie rang several more times. When Karen finally answered, Katie had been surprised to see the state the woman was in. Her hair was disheveled and her makeup was clearly at least a day old. Despite the fact that it was nearly one in the afternoon, she was still in her dressing gown, her bare feet showing off the chipped polish on her toes. Karen had a glass in her hand as she stared blearily at the young woman on her front porch.

"Mrs. Williams, I'm a friend of Sarah's. You haven't seen her, have you? I'm worried."

Karen took a step closer to Katie and stumbled against the doorframe. She was drunk as a lord and she reeked of vodka. Katie took a step back to avoid having to smell the woman. Clearly bathing had not been a priority for Karen in the past several days. Katie watched as the woman lifted the glass and took a sip before answering. "No. Thank God. That girl was nothing but trouble."

Katie frowned. "I think she might be  _in_  trouble, do you know where I can find her?"

A strange look came over Karen's face but it passed as swiftly as it came. "I've no clue where that girl has run off to, nor do I care." Again, Karen raised her glass to her lips and drank.

Katie tried again. "Mrs. Williams, do you know of anyone-"

"Look," Karen replied, gesturing with her glass and sloshing the blood red contents on the porch floor. "I haven't seen her. I don't know where she went. I don't know who she's with and I don't care as long as she doesn't come back." Her irritation grew with each sentence she slurred and she gesticulated rather wildly.

For a moment, Katie had been speechless. She had known that Karen had no love for her stepdaughter but such vehement hate seemed very out of place. No wonder Sarah had preferred the cold hospital to the comforts of her own home. "Mrs. Williams, any little bit of information that you have would be very helpful to me. Could I look around Sarah's room? Perhaps there some clue there that would help me locate her." All her instincts told Katie that Karen knew more than she was telling her, but she didn't know how to get the woman to crack.

Karen drew herself up and straightened, swaying slightly without the support of the doorframe. "Certainly not!" Her eyes narrowed and she looked at Katie suspiciously. "I don't know who you are young lady but I suggest you get off my porch." With that, Karen stepped back and slammed the door right in her face.

Katie rang the bell and knocked on the the door, trying to get Karen to open up and talk to her some more. The only response she received was a shrieked threat from inside the house. "If you don't leave my property at once I shall call the police to have you removed!" She had stood there a few more moments before walking defeatedly back to her car.

That had been several hours ago and Katie had not moved from her parking spot down the street since. She reasoned that if she couldn't get Karen to talk to her, maybe Toby would have some information. So here she was, waiting for the school bus to bring the six year old home.

Finally, Katie saw a bus pull up and stop at the end of the street. Several children got off the bus and Katie was unable to immediately determine which of the children was Toby. She watched as most of the other children ran happily off to other houses. Eventually, her focus narrowed down to a small towheaded boy walking dejectedly toward the Williams' house. Katie stepped out of the car and hurried to catch up with him before he got home.

"Toby!"

Toby stopped and turned around, hope writ large across his face. When he caught sight of her, Katie saw his face fall and she realized that he must have thought she was Sarah. "Hey Toby," she said kindly, as she reached him. "I'm a friend of Sarah's. Do you know what's happened to her?"

Toby glanced around, as though making sure they weren't being watched before he leaned closer to her. He spoke in a low conspiratorial tone. "I bet  _he_  took her."

Katie's eyebrows shot up and she crouched down so she was on his level. She looked at Toby, completely at a loss for words. After a few moments she asked, "What do you mean  _he_  took her? Who took her?"

Toby shuffled his feet and looked down at the ground. "I'm not s'posed to talk about it. Sarah might get mad." He looked back over his shoulder at his front door and a worried look crossed his face. "And I  _know_  Mom would be mad."

"Why?"

He looked earnestly at her. "'Cause Mom says that it's just make believe. Sarah told me never to tell Mom or Dad about being able to see things that they can't, or they might send me away like they did to her. She said people would think I was crazy too."

Katie didn't know what to say. It appeared that Toby knew more about what was going on than anyone thought he did. He continued, "Sarah wasn't crazy you know, 'cause it's real, all those things she sees. He's real too, I 'member him. Sarah said I shouldn't 'cause I was too little but I remember. He sang songs and there were funny goblins."

"Remember who?" Katie wondered if Toby actually knew something or if he just had a very active imagination. He was only six, after all.

"The Magic Man," Toby whispered.

"Oookaaay." Katie stood, disappointed. She wasn't getting anywhere here. Logically, she had to conclude that Toby was confusing fantasy and reality. Despite her own experiences, Katie was having trouble accepting anything that her mind could not find a logical explanation for. Toby eyed her critically for a moment before sighing.

"Sarah was right, you don't believe me," he said sadly.

"I believe that you believe it, Toby."

"That's not the same thing," he said drily. "I saw him, Mom sent me away with Gram and Grandpa but I looked back and I saw him."

Once again, Katie crouched down. She set her hands on Toby's shoulders and looked seriously at him. "Where did you see him?"

"In the cemetery. He talked to Mom and Sarah. Then Mom came back to the car and told the driver to go. She looked mad, but happy too." Once again, Toby glanced over his shoulder at his house. Katie knew she would have to let him go soon or Karen would come looking for him.

"What about Sarah?"

"Mom said she would come home later, but she never did."

"So, you saw this 'Magic Man' in the cemetery and then your Mom came back, but Sarah didn't?"

Toby nodded wordlessly. Katie was wondering what else to ask him when a shout startled them both. Toby looked guilty and immediately turned and raced toward his house while Katie stood. Karen walked unsteadily across the porch.

"Tobias Edward Williams! You get in this house right now!" she screamed, starting down the front steps. She still had not gotten dressed. In fact it looked as though she had done nothing at all since Katie had spoken to her earlier. Although, Katie noted, she had obviously continued pursuing the delights of a liquid diet. Karen now held a wine glass in her hand and there was a new, bright red stain down the front of the housecoat she still wore. Katie looked at her with concern.

"You!" Karen yelled at her as she recognized her from earlier. "I told you to go away and leave us the fuck alone!" The situation was rapidly deteriorating and Katie took a few steps backwards. She was torn between worry for Toby and self preservation. Karen was once again waving her arms wildly as she spoke, clearly very intoxicated as she marched toward the young woman.

"I don't know who you are but if you don't leave me and my son alone, I will call the police! I'll have you arrested for trespassing and attempted kidnapping!" Karen shook her finger in Katie's face as she continued to shriek like a banshee at her, threatening all manner of legal action if she ever saw her again.

"I'm on the public sidewalk, Mrs. Williams, I'm not trespassing, and I certainly wasn't attempting to kidnap Toby. We were just talking" Katie tried to reason with the woman, but Karen didn't seem to hear a word that she said. Karen was too wrapped up in her tirade to notice anything else, not even the neighbors that were beginning to step outside to see what all the commotion was about.

"I don't give a damn where you are standing you nutjob, I want you gone and I never want to see you again, do you hear me? You stay away from me and away from my son! If you were friends with my husband's freak of a daughter, then you have no business near my son! I will not have you infecting him with your crazy ideas!"

_Too late_ _,_  Katie thought as she raised her hands in surrender, backing away even further. From the front porch, Toby called to his mother, begging her to stop yelling and come inside. Even from a distance Katie could see how disheartened the young boy was. His shoulders were hunched, and when he moved it was as though he were carrying a great weight on his back. She could tell that the entire situation was obviously difficult for the young boy and her heart went out to him. With a final glare and a rude gesture for Katie, Karen marched back to her house, hustling Toby inside and slamming the door behind them.

As Katie climbed into her car and headed home, she wondered about this 'Magic Man' that Toby claimed to have seen. Was he real, or just a figment of a six year olds overactive imagination? If he was real, what did he have to do with Sarah and Toby? And did he have anything to do with Sarah's disappearance? Given the odd things that had been happening to her lately, Katie was inclined to believe that Toby really had seen  _something_ that day, the question was, what exactly did he see? Katie pondered these questions as she made her way back to her small apartment on the other side of town.

Pulling into her parking space, Katie once again eyed the pile of library books in her front seat with distaste. It wasn't that she disliked reading, rather the opposite, but she had no desire to read through all this nonsense on things that she had spent most of her life adamantly refusing to believe in. With a sigh, she gathered them up and lugged them inside, dumping them on her tiny kitchen table. Turning the light on she surveyed her little domain.

The laminate floors and counter tops, although scrubbed clean, were chipped and pitted with age and hard use. The tiny kitchenette where she stood took up one wall of the studio apartment that she rented. Where the laminate ended, a threadbare brown rug began. Sometime in the seventies, it might actually have been a fairly nice shag carpet, now it was so old and worn that she had strategically placed colorful throw rugs over top of it to cover up the places where the padding was beginning to show through.

The bed, which could be seen on the other side of the small apartment, was covered in a colorful quilt. A stark contrast to the cracking plaster walls, which were bone white. Katie would have liked to be able to hang things on the walls, but the ancient plaster was so crumbly that the few times she tried, she had found herself patching the massive holes that formed. Despite the rundown state of the little apartment, it was home to Katie, and she didn't have to share it with anyone else.

Wandering over to the fridge, she took out a bottle of water and some leftover pizza, throwing it on a plate before carrying it over to the table. She dug into her purse and pulled out the little red book that she had begun carrying everywhere, just like Sarah always had. Katie didn't want to take a chance on losing it because she had a feeling that is was very important. Setting in on the table, she turned her attention to the stack of library books.

So far, Katie had not had much luck in identifying the creature that she had seen in Danny's room. She was beginning to wonder if it was even connected to Sarah's and her recent troubles. Katie hadn't seen anything else concrete since that day, although she frequently had the unsettling sensation of being watched. It happened most often when she was holding Sarah's book. Despite that, Katie kept the book close. She had only tried to open it once. To her dismay, she couldn't. It was as if the pages were all glued together. She clearly remembered seeing Sarah actually reading the book several times, so she knew that it wasn't possible that the pages were glued together. To Katie, it was just one more sign that there was something unusual going on that involved Sarah.

Katie sighed as she settled down for a long night of reading. Biting into the cold pizza she smiled grimly as she opened the first book. This was so very reminiscent of her study sessions in nursing school that she almost expected to hear her obnoxious old roommates going at it like rabbits in their bedroom. This time, though, her studies had a much more pressing object than simply passing a class.

As Katie slowly sank into her studies, turning page after page, the clock on the shelf next to the door ticked loudly. Unseen by Katie, the little red book slowly surrounded itself with a gentle light, too faint to be seen under the flickering glow of the old kitchen light fixture. Slowly, the gleam from the book extended to envelope all of the books that Katie had brought home with her. When she paused in her reading to take her plate to the sink, the light quickly reached out and enveloped the book she had been reading as well. A surge of magic flashed brightly for a moment and caused the breakers in the old apartment to trip, plunging Katie into darkness. "Damn," she muttered heading for the breaker box. "I have got to insist that the landlord do something about these power surges!" By the time she reset the breakers and returned to the table, everything was back to normal. There was no sign of a magical glow.


	14. Magic Man?

**Disclaimer -** Star light, Star Bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might... have the rights to The Labyrinth handed to me. ::Waits expectantly:: No? Nothing? Drat.

**Warnings** : Minor warning for some conflict and language. Nothing to ruffle any feathers though.

A/N - A big thank you to my littlest sister for doing a read through for me, though. And a shout out to my husband, who finally did manage to edit for me, and came up with a brilliant idea in the process that resulted in some top notch storytelling!

Hope you enjoy this chapter. Cheers!

* * *

Mathyn strode furiously around the clearing outside the orcs encampment in the mountains. Every so often, he paused to kick an unoffending rock or slash at the leaves of some poor plant with the flexible branch he was carrying. He had ripped the branch from the first tree he had passed when storming out of the camp.

"That Bitch! Sending the girl away and summoning my brother!" Mathyn paused to form a nasty looking crystal which he promptly hurled against the nearest tree. The tree exploded into gouts of flame, throwing ash across the clearing as it quickly burned down to a charred stump. "I should have killed the old hag outright! Damn it all to hell! I nearly had Jareth's wench in my grasp!"

Chiara was huddled on the ground, well out of the path that her masters raging footsteps were wearing into the grass. She was afraid to stay, but more afraid to leave. While none of what had happened in the Labyrinth had been her fault, it was not beyond the realm of possibility that her master would try to take it out on her regardless. So, she cowered in a tuft of tall grass, fingering the studded collar that she wore around her neck as she watched him vent his rage on the environment around him.

He continued screaming out his frustrations for several more minutes. Eventually, he calmed enough to cease his outbursts and lean moodily against a tree. Chiara gathered her courage and crept out of the shelter of her tuft of grass, hoping to make it back to the camp unseen.

Moving turned out to be a mistake. Instantly, his piercing gaze struck her and a globe of magic formed in his hand. The swirling black and red of the orb was shot through with streaks of white hot light as it left his hand and sped toward her. In panic, Chiara shot upwards, attempting to escape. The magic followed her, tracking her movements and overtaking her easily. Chiara had time for one piercing scream before the evil magic overwhelmed her. It felt as though she had been struck with lightning and her muscles locked. The breath whooshed out of her body and she could not summon enough muscle control to take another. Black spots were dancing in her vision when she heard a sinister chuckle very close.

Just before she blacked out, the magic released her. Instinctively her body sucked in the cool mountain air, even as she began to plummet toward the ground. Chiara tried to force her wings into action and save herself from striking the rocks below, but she could manage no more than a slight quiver. She did not fall far, however.

Mathyn's hand shot out and snatched her from midair. He chuckled again as he closed his fist around her small frame in a punishing grip. "Well, well. I forgot you were there. Perhaps I have trained you too well as a spy. A slave should never conceal herself from her master."

Chaira gasped as he tightened his grip. She was thankful that her wings stuck out between his fingers. Had they been crushed between her body and his hands, she doubted whether they would have survived without breaking. She forced herself to go limp, not fighting him in the slightest. To fight would be to challenge him, and that could be fatal given their failure to procure the girl he wanted. Her mind whirled as she tried to come up with something that would distract him from his current fixation on her. Eventually, she remembered something that she had witnessed the time she had come to report and had ended up having to trick that nasty orc, Viggu.

"I… I have… an idea," she groaned out.

His eyebrows rose and he loosened his grip but did not release her. "An idea? How interesting. An idea about what?"

"A way to track down Sarah."

Her master was silent for a moment. Chiara held her breath, fearful of what his response to her unsolicited idea might be. He opened his hand, turning it so that she was lying flat on his palm before he grabbed her wings in his other hand and lifted her up. Holding her so that her body dangled by her delicate wings, he brought her up to eye level and growled. "If you had found that secret passage sooner, then we never would have lost her."

Chiara was paralyzed with fear. Her silvery eyes were wide and her whole body trembled like a leaf in the wind. It would take so little for him to cripple her like this. A mere flick of his wrist would snap her wings off like dry twigs. For the first time in many months she forgot all of the hard learned lessons he had given her about the proper way for a slave to behave. Her fear pushed it all straight out of her head and she stared, fascinated, into his blue eyes; the way a mouse will often stare in fascination at an approaching snake, despite knowing the danger.

After what seemed like an eternity, Chiara was able to snap out of her fear and reply. "I know Master, I am sorry I failed. I will do better, just give me a chance." She watched his face as she pleaded with him, looking for any sign that the next few minutes would be her last in this world.

After a moment a smirk appeared on his face and the rich baritone of his voice washed over her. "Very well. I am intrigued that you've been bold enough to formulate a plan on your own. I will hear it, but if I am not pleased with what you have to say, then you shall have reason to regret your boldness."

Trembling, Chiara began to speak, detailing the plan that had come into her head. It would allow her to spend as much time away from him as possible, while also giving her someone else to blame, should things go wrong. When she finally finished, Mathyn was silent and Chiara waited in dreadful suspense for him to speak.

"This might work, and it will give me leverage over both Jareth and the girl, should either one prove to be overly troublesome." He unceremoniously dropped her on the ground and turned away from her. "Go, fetch me that succubus. I want her here before sundown."

* * *

Following the announcement of an investigation into Diermuid's intelligence gathering, the Council Chamber had briefly fallen silent. That silence was broken by the King of Avalon. "So, what solution have you come to that you hope will speed up the repairs on the Labyrinth?" Conor impatiently tapped a quill pen against the table as he spoke to Jareth.

Jareth quickly marshalled his thoughts again. He had just intercepted a look of surprise that had passed between his parents and Andris. He surmised that it had something to do with Diermuid taking the High King's edict about an investigation into his intelligence service so quietly. If Jareth was reading the situation correctly, then that meant that the King of the Wood Elves had already laid plans against just such an event. No matter how deeply the investigator dug, they wouldn't find anything useable. Internally, Jareth was seething. Just thinking about Diermuid having the audacity to send a spy into the Goblin Kingdom made his blood boil. Externally, however, he maintained a calm facade. While the thought of unleashing his rage on the elitist asshole was attractive, such actions would ultimately result in further trouble, not to mention a very poor first day as a Council Member.

"As Diermuid said, the Labyrinth spoke to me. It told me that I needed to find the Airíoch."

Diermuid sighed in irritation. "Please, this is clearly a convenient fabrication on your part to distract us all from your lack of attention to your realm these past several years. Rather than own up to your shortcomings, you claim to have been presented with an impossible task. Very conducive for you to be able to continue your neglectful rule." When nothing but silence greeted his outburst, he looked incredulously around the table. "You all can't possibly believe this nonsense. He's just trying to buy time."

Diona's voice rang through the room. "The Labyrinth did indeed speak, Diermuid. All those within it's confines heard it. I suggest you listen, rather than mock that which you neither understand nor respect."

Diermuid subsided back into his chair at the rebuke, looking as though he had bitten into something sour.

"He does have a point though, where are we going to find the descendants of William the Wise? They have been missing for far longer than any of us have been alive." Helimar leaned forward and rested his right arm against the table as he looked down it's length.

Jareth shook his head. "I don't know, I have been looking through the library in the castle, hoping to find some evidence as to where to begin the search, but I haven't found anything that leads me to believe that such a search will be easy. "

Twylithia finished oiling her now well sharpened dagger and slid it back into the sheath strapped to her thigh. "How are we meant to know if the family even exists anymore? Legends say that they went Above. There have been an untold number of wars, plagues, and natural disasters in that world. There is more than a fleeting possibility that the family of the last Airíoch did not survive."

"And, assuming that they did survive, how are we going to recognize one of them if we do happen to come across them?" Andris stroked his beard, looking thoughtfully out the windows.

"The Labyrinth will respond to them," Jareth said confidently. If nothing else, he was sure of that. Whoever they were looking for, they would be instantly recognized by the Labyrinth itself.

"So what do we do? Start parading people through the Labyrinth and hope that it starts talking to someone?" Andris chuckled. "That's hardly a plan at all, much less a good one."

"We can't discount the high probability that the person we are looking for is mortal," Helimar said speculatively.

"What!?" Diermuid looked sharply at Helimar, startled out of his sulk by the idea. "That's unacceptable. We cannot have a mortal Airíoch."

"Oh hush, Diermuid. If a mortal Airíoch is what we can expect, then I suggest that we get used to the idea as quickly as possible. We can always perform the ritual and hope that the blood of William is strong enough to see them through the change." Twylithia focused her gaze on Diona. "You have been very quiet while we have been discussing this, what are your thoughts, Priestess?"

Diona looked around the table, her face inscrutable. "There is one way to identify the family, should they still be in Fae form. After William became the first Airíoch, he, and his entire line after him, were marked by the Labyrinth."

"What form did this mark take?" Cieran asked. "I have never, in all my studies, come across mention of any sort of a marking or abnormality in that family line."

"Nor have I," stated Helimar, leaning even further forward and looking at Diona with interest.

"It was their eyes," Diona told them. "They all had jade green eyes."

"So what? I'm sure that if I cared to look around, I would come across any number of my citizens that have green eyes," Diermuid said dismissively. "Should we be testing them all to see if they are are the Airíoch?"

Diona looked irritated. "No, I am speaking specifically of the Fae. How many  _Fae_  do you know with such eyes?" she asked him.

"How would I know?" Diermuid muttered, shifting in his seat, looking anywhere but at the Priestess. Jareth could easily see that the King of the Wood Elves was both uncomfortable and angry at being constantly challenged by the old woman. The meeting was clearly not going the way the elf wanted it to. Jareth judged that it would not be long before Diermuid lost his temper again, and he resolved to direct the other man's anger at himself, rather than allow him to unleash it on Diona.

Diona continued as though Diermuid had not spoken. "If the descendants of William are meant to be returned to us, then they will return when they are needed, and not a moment before. We can either waste our time and energy in pursuing a course of action that we have very little hope of succeeding in, or we can focus our efforts elsewhere." There were thoughtful looks and murmurs all around the table as the assembled monarch's considered the words of the elder in their midst. Turning to Jareth, she said, "I think that you should focus less on finding the Airíoch and more on completing the repairs, as well as figuring out who or what caused the deterioration in the first place. In my mind, that is a far more profitable venture than a mad hunt for a family that we have not seen in thousands of years."

"How can I ignore the instructions of the Labyrinth itself?" Jareth protested, aghast that Diona would even make such a suggestion. For the first time ever, the Labyrinth spoke aloud for all to hear, and the Priestess of the Croí Foinse was advocating that they ignore it!

"No, Jareth, I said  _you_  should focus your attention elsewhere. There are plenty of others who can take up the search for the lost Airíoch. You have other responsibilities."

"I agree with Diona, Jareth." The High King unexpectedly added his voice to the discussion. "Your first priority should be the protection of the Croí Foinse. That means repairing the Labyrinth and finding the culprit behind the sabotage. How long do you estimate that it will take you to complete the repairs needed to make the Labyrinth sound again?"

Jareth thought about the amount of work to be done and winced. If he worked to exhaustion every day, it was possible that he could have the repairs completed within two months. However, that would leave him without the time or energy to look into whatever was behind the damage in the first place. It would also leave him no time to search for Sarah or the Airíoch. No matter what any of them said, he was not about to ignore the demands that the Labyrinth had seen fit to make of him. Taking all of that into account, Jareth came up with what he thought to be a reasonable estimate. "I believe that we can have the repairs finished within three months, four at the latest, barring any unforeseen circumstances, such as further damage to the Labyrinth."

"That long?" Diermuid looked outraged at the very idea. "Can't you hire more masons and construction crews to have it done sooner?"

Jareth ground his teeth again. "No, I cannot. The repairs on the Labyrinth don't work like that. I can have as many masons as I want and it would still require me to be present for the placement of every brick and stone. The estimate that I gave is based on my ability to magically oversee the project. Without me,  _nothing_  can be added the Labyrinth.

Helimars deep voice came from the far end of the table, "Let's leave the state of the Labyrinth alone for the moment. I am more concerned about today's raid. What were the raiders hoping to achieve? And what was Mathyn doing with a band of orcs on a raid into the Labyrinth? No one has seen him for several hundred years and yet he turns up now, taking part in a raid into your kingdom? I begin to think that we should have been looking harder for the erstwhile Prince."

"I've been saying that for years," Andris reminded the Council.

Jareth considered his next course of action carefully. Deciding that he would rather have the help of the other kings in locating Mathyn before the traitor could find Sarah, Jareth resolved to reveal that she was the object of Mathyn's raid. It would help spur them into action, although he hoped to avoid answering too many awkward questions about why she was here again. He concluded that hiding Sarah's return was not the best move in any case. The risks were too high, both for himself, should he be caught in a lie, and especially for Sarah, if she wasn't found. He shot a glance at Diona and she nodded, understanding his expression. He returned his gaze to the far end of the Council table.

"He was trying to get his hands on a mortal girl, by the name of Sarah," Jareth said. He carefully kept his face neutral as he answered the Dark Elven King. He could not afford for the Council to get the wrong idea about his involvement with Sarah.

"You mean that runner!?" Diermuid yelled, his temper finally fraying past the point of control. "What is she doing back in the Underground? You cannot possibly tell me that she was foolish enough to wish away another child, despite the fact that you allowed her to win last time."

Andris raised his eyebrows at this piece of news. He and Rhiannon exchanged a thoughtful look while Jareth glanced at the High King to see how he was taking the news. He might as well have been looking at a blank slate for all that his father's countenance revealed.

"Yes, Jareth," Twylithia said, her voice devoid of any emotion. "How is it that the Champion of the Labyrinth comes to be Underground again? Or did she never leave?"

Jareth straightened in his chair, eyes blazing. "If you are accusing me of kidnapping her or keeping her here against her will, then you are sorely mistaken. I have broken no laws!"

"Then why is she here!?" Diermuid's face was rapidly turning an unhealthy looking shade of red.

"She is here because she was wished away," Jareth snapped. He stood and slammed his hands down on the table in front of him. The pendant that he wore as a sign of his rank swung forward off of his chest. "Last time I checked, those who were wished away were under my jurisdiction, and they are my responsibility until I see fit to find them new homes. I fail to see how her return is of any interest to the King of the Wood Elves!" Despite his anger, Jareth was careful to avoid using Sarah's name. He could not afford to show more concern for her than he would for any other wished away child.

Diermuid also stood to confront Jareth head on. "She cannot still be a child. Therefore, she could not possibly have been wished away. The only explanation for her return is that you have broken the laws of the Underground and brought her here for your own reasons. That  _does_  concern me, and everyone else on the Council!" Diermuid gestured at the others who were watching the exchange between them with varying degrees on surprise. "Those laws are in place for a reason. She does not belong here! I think that you have an aberrant attachment to this mortal and that you brought her back because of it! I demand that you produce the mortal known as Sarah immediately so that she may be returned Above where she belongs! After her memories have been altered, or course," the elf added offhandedly, and in a much calmer voice than he had been using just moments before.

The barb that he so casually threw at Jareth struck home. The thought of turning Sarah over to Diermuid to have her memories of the time they spent together erased, negative though most of them were, was unbearable. Jareth could not stop the heat from rising in his face or a hint of passionate feeling from creeping into his voice as he said, "I have broken no laws, and I certainly will not turn Sarah over to  _your_  tender mercies, Diermuid." Jareth sneered and crossed his arms across his chest. He stared defiantly around at the Council. The faces of the members ranged from outrage at the thought that he may have broken one of the most sacred of the laws of the Underground, to what he assumed was amusement at his reaction.

Twylithia leaned back in her chair and slung a slender leg over the arm as she turned in her seat to face Jareth. "It should be easy enough to get to the bottom of these questions," she drawled. "Let's simply send for this Sarah and ask her how it is that she comes to be Underground once again. Surely the Council can accept the word of the Champion as truth."

Diermuid snorted. "She is mortal. They lie all the time, even to themselves. Most of them are incapable of recognizing the truth if it bit them in the ass."

"Forgive me, Diermuid, for not taking your word for it." Twylithia replied with disdain. "I feel that your somewhat crass opinion may be slightly biased."

Andris snorted. "Slightly…"

Twylithia fixed her eyes upon Jareth's face once more. "Well, will you summon her?"

"I cannot," Jareth admitted, his shoulders sagging slightly for a moment.

There were more murmurs around the table as they considered the implications of his reply. Cieran glared at his son. "Why not?" Jareth remained silent, not wanting to admit that he had left her, alone and almost helpless, on the outskirts of the Labyrinth.

"Because he does not know where she is." Diona spoke up without bothering to rise from her seat. When she was sure that everyone attention was on her, she continued, "When my cottage was attacked by Mathyn and his orcs, Sarah was with me. We fled before they arrived, but we were followed and pursued. As we could not outrun the orcs, I sent her away for her own safety."

"Well, where did you send her?" Andris queried.

Diona shook her head. "I don't know. I simply asked the Labyrinth to take her somewhere safe and then released all the magic at my disposal. However, I believe that I can settle the matter of whether or not any laws were broken in bringing her back Underground." She leaned forward and folded her hands primly on the table in front of her. "Sarah was, in fact, wished away. By her stepmother, actually. They were laying her father to rest in the cemetery when it happened. She was not exactly pleased with the situation, but no laws were broken in bringing her here."

Cieran looked from Diona to Jareth is surprise, his face as stunned as the rest of the Council. "Why would the Labyrinth allow for an adult to be wished away? Such a thing has never happened before."

Both Diona and Jareth shook their heads. "I don't know," Jareth answered, "But I was summoned as the Goblin King to retrieve a wished away, so I did. Perhaps an exception was made because Sarah is the current Champion of the Labyrinth. As far as I know, a Champion has never been wished away before."

The monarchs around the table seemed to accept this answer, although some, like Diermuid, looked dissatisfied. Jareth knew that Diermuid would have sorely liked to continue the argument that he had broken the law when he brought Sarah Underground. The only reason that the Wood Elven King did not continue with his accusations, was that Diona was here to back his story. Offering a silent blessing to the Fates that Diona had decided to come with him, Jareth waited tensely for the next question to come. He refused to offer any more information than he absolutely had to. Not about Sarah. He was grateful that Diona had offered no more information than she had, even though he did not yet know her motivations for keeping silent.

Despite how Sarah felt about him, he felt strongly inclined to shield her from the notice of the governing monarchs of the Underground. She was in danger, and for all he knew, the danger might come from within. Jareth struggled with himself for several minutes as he considered whether or not he should request the help of his fellow monarchs in the search for the missing woman. Eventually he decided against such an rash act. It was highly unlikely that the Labyrinth had taken Sarah out of the immediate vicinity, let alone out of the Goblin Kingdom. There should be no need to bother the others with what was likely to be a pointless search on their part. Jareth felt certain that she would turn up in a few days.

Once again, it was Helimar's quiet, thoughtful voice that broke the silence that had descended on the room after the last round of murmurs and nods. "I still don't understand what Mathyn wants with her. How did he know she was Underground and why would he care?"

Jareth glanced at Diona, checking her reaction to the question. Her face was inscrutable and she offered no help in deciding what to tell the Council. He then turned his attention to his parents to find both of them watching him, intense looks upon their faces. It had been many years since they had heard anything about their younger child and Jareth was loath to reveal the painful information that he carried. His mother, especially, would not bear it well.

Grimly, and with great reluctance, Jareth spoke, "He left a message for me with Diona. He said that everything that was mine would be his. He spoke of having control over the Labyrinth as well as taking the crown of the High King for himself. As for how he knew that Sarah had returned once more, that is something I am looking forward to finding out, once I get my hands on him." Jareth grinned tightly, but there was no humor in the smile, just a promise of terrible retribution overlying a deep sadness. Jareth continued, "He has allowed himself to be seduced by his own lust for power and now seeks to take by force what he cannot inherit or earn."

With almost childlike delight, Diermuid zeroed in on the one thing that Jareth would rather they had all overlooked. "And do the things that are yours include this Sarah? Is that why he wants her? Just what is your relationship with this... woman?"

Jareth hesitated. _Damn Diermuid to the lowest levels of hell! Why does he keep pushing this?_ Jareth thought. He was unwilling to lie about his complicated relationship with the Champion of the Labyrinth, but also unwilling to reveal that he had all but begged her to stay with him, only to have her blithely refuse his pleas. To be honest, he no longer knew what he felt for Sarah. All he was certain of was that she drove him mad with her stubborn pride and yet, he wanted nothing more than her happiness. He was unexpectedly saved from having to answer by his mother's voice.

"I would imagine," the High Queen said sadly. "That my younger son perceives the young woman, who had the wisdom and luck to beat the Labyrinth, to be a valuable asset in achieving his goals. He was always a very driven, intense child. Although he would delight in taking away someone that he viewed as being highly valued by his brother, I doubt that his motivation lies solely in that line of reasoning. It is far more likely that he hopes to use her influence to gain power over the Labyrinth itself, rather than use her as a pawn against Jareth." As she spoke to the Council, her eyes sought those of her eldest son. In them was a look of understanding and compassion for his suffering and confusion that spoke more eloquently than the words she was offering to the Council. Jareth stared in shock for a moment before inclining his head ever so slightly in gratitude for her intercession.

Diermuid looked dissatisfied but did not pursue the matter. After several moments spent gathering his thoughts, Jareth spoke again. "I intend to order the troops to make a full scale search of the Labyrinth for the Lady Sarah when I return. She must not be allowed to fall into Mathyn's hands, regardless of his reasons for wanting her."

Andris nodded. "You expect to find her somewhere within the Labyrinth then?"

"I can't imagine where else she could be," Jareth replied.

Twylithia sat up straight once more. "Very well, I see no reason to extend this meeting any further. It appears that Jareth has matters within the Labyrinth well in hand and I know that we all intend to keep a sharp eye out for Prince Mathyn in the future. I'm sure we all have better things to do than sit here all day."

At this, Diermuid held up a hand. Jareth was sure that he was going to bring up the condition of the Labyrinth once again, but he did not. "There is still the matter that involves Lord Gethin and the Lady Belinda to be resolved." Jareth looked around at the faces of the Council members for some clue as to what was going on. No one would meet his eye but Diona, who looked as placid and unruffled as usual. Jareth began to get a very bad feeling about what was coming next.

Cieran summoned a servant, who then went in search of the requested people. The High King then turned to Jareth. "Son, the Council has decided that it is high time you gave some thought to marrying." His voice was stern, but not harsh, as he informed Jareth of this development.

Jareth narrowed his eyes and looked around the table. Once again, very few people would meet his eye. Andris shot him a look of sympathy and his mother one of pleading. Rising, Jareth stalked away from his newly acquired Council seat, over to the large windows overlooking the cliffs. Clasping his hands behind his back as he stared out at the spectacular view, Jareth said, "Why now? I have no inclination to marry at the present time."

Diermuid, unable to keep his mouth shut in the face of what was clearly the only triumph he was to have in this meeting, spoke up. "The current unrest in the Realms has prompted us to consider the matter of your bachelorhood with a less than friendly eye, Jareth. You need to marry and produce an heir to assure the continuation of the royal line. Clearly, we cannot leave your brother in place as your heir. Not in light of his… less than cordial intentions toward you. If something should happen to you and you should pass into the next world without securing the succession, then your brother is the only option left to us. The Lady Belinda is a lovely girl of impeccable breeding and a good family. I have no doubt that she will be able to provide you with an heir in short order."

Jareth winced at the news that they had already chosen someone. His mind instantly flew back to Sarah and the feeling of her as she rested in his arms in the rain. He replayed every scene of the masquerade dream that they had created together when Sarah ate that blasted peach. Then he recalled the moment when Sarah had opened her eyes here in the Underground. Had it really been almost three weeks ago? The feeling that had zinged between them in that moment was indescribable. It had been like coming home for the first time in years. It was like experiencing your first kiss and the comfort of a well known lover all at once. It had felt, just for a moment, like something had tied them together. It was faint, barely there, and unfelt after that moment, but it had been there.

"Unless..." interrupted Rhiannon, her voice tinged with desperation as she sought a way to give her son the chance to choose his own bride. "Unless you have someone else in mind and are willing to begin courting her at once."

At the thought of courting Sarah, Jareth's heart rose, and then dropped like a stone as bitter thoughts once again intruded: Sarah screaming that everything was just a game to him and that he was at fault for her years of suffering. How she had pulled away from him when all he had wanted to do was reach out and offer her comfort. His own shock, when he realized that Sarah had been in mortal danger in the Labyrinth and had preferred to face it alone rather than call on him for help. The fact that she wasn't his. She never had been… and she never would be.

Jareth spun abruptly from the window, his face a blank mask once more. "I do not wish to marry," he repeated.

"You have no choice in the matter, Jareth. Other than perhaps a choice, now, in the selection of the woman to be courted." Cieran crossed his arms and stared his son down. The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife as father and son squared off in an intense battle of wills.

After several moments, Diermuid interrupted. "We have already given Lord Gethin and the Lady Belinda out assurances that Jareth will be courting-"

Jareth whirled on him, treating him to the same withering glare than he had just been bestowing on his parent. "Shut up, you pompous ass! Your opinion is as unwelcome as your interference has been. I have no wish to marry right now, nor do I wish to have a bride chosen for me like a side of beef!" Diermuid's mouth closed with a snap and he glared at the enraged Goblin King. The rest of the Council looked at each other, clearly unsure of how to react. Several of them looked as though they now regretted this course of action.

"If you have another woman who has captured your attention, then name her!" Cieran's voice cracked like a whip through the still air of the Council Chamber. The charged atmosphere practically sizzled with tension. Diona and Rhiannon exchanged a glance that clearly communicated their knowledge of the woman that they suspected Jareth would like to choose, if he could.

For several agonizing moments, it seemed as though Jareth would actually speak the name of another woman, but he did not. He had considered it, briefly, but his complete and utter certainty that Sarah hated him caused the words to die on his lips. At best, such as action would be no more than a delaying tactic before he was eventually forced to accept the Council's choice of a bride. At worst, his initial refusal to consider the woman they had obviously vetted and approved of would cause a massive schism in the Council that they could ill afford right now.

_No,_  Jareth thought,  _better to face it now. I will put Sarah out of my mind and marry where the Council decrees. This is my chance to move on with my life; to cut Sarah out of my heart, as she wishes. She will be safer if I choose another. Perhaps Mathyn will be less interested in her if he hears that I have become betrothed to Lady Belinda. I will bow to the will of the Council… for the good of the Underground… and for Sarah._

Abruptly, Jareth bowed stiffly to his parents, breaking the tension in the room like a pebble dropped into a still pond. He then turned and bowed to the assembled Council Members. His voice was flat and detached when he straightened and asked, "Who is it that the Council has deemed worthy of becoming the next High Queen?"

There was a collective sigh of relief as the Council members relaxed even further, Practically preening, Diermuid stood as the doors of the Council Chamber opened with impeccable timing, admitting Lord Gethin and his daughter once more. He addressed Jareth in an imperious tone. "Your Majesty, may I present Lord Gethin, Chief Advisor to the Fairy Queen and Lord of the Fairy Council." He paused while Gethin bowed to both the assembled Council and to Jareth.

When the black haired Fae straightened, he held out a hand to the young woman who was obviously his daughter. Before Diermuid could continue with the introduction, Gethin said, "Your Majesty, may I present my daughter, the Lady Belinda, flower of my house and my only child."

Jareth strode over to the entrance where Gethin and his daughter had paused. He bowed to Lord Gethin and then took the Lady Belinda's hand in his gloved one. He bowed perfunctorily over it, just barely brushing his lips across the skin of her wrist. "My lady," he said as he straightened. "It is indeed an honor to have the privilege of courting such a fair maiden."

"No, Your Majesty, it is I who am honored to be courted by you."

They could have been discussing the weather for all the emotion they put into their exchange. Both smiled, but their smiles never reached their eyes. After these pleasantries, Jareth turned from Belinda and her father. He bowed slightly to the Council. "If you will excuse me, I have a great deal of work to do in the Goblin Kingdom." Without waiting for the High King to dismiss him and muttering only a brief farewell to the woman who was now his betrothed, Jareth strode out of the Council room, his manner cold and his bearing stiff and proud.

As Jareth magically swung the doors to the Council Chamber closed behind him with a hollow boom, he paused for a moment to consider what his next move should be. Of the various things that needed his attention, finding Sarah was foremost in his mind. After thinking about it for a moment of two, he decided that it might be a good idea to stop by the castle to see if Ethan had any news and then drop in on one of Sarah's friends, just to see if they could offer any insight into the matter. His decision made, Jareth strode grimly out of the antechamber, his mind already preoccupied with the next task.

* * *

Katie yawned and rubbed her eyes as she stretched. She had been sitting at this tiny little table for far too long, and it was now nearing midnight. Reluctantly she closed the book in front of her and gathered up the copious notes that she had taken. Contrary to her expectations, the books that she had gotten from the library had all been exceedingly helpful. The information she needed had all but leaped off the page at her.

She had started with the book about mediums, psychics and intuitives. She hadn't really been getting anywhere at first; it all seemed foreign and slightly campy. But after fixing the blown circuit, Katie had been able to sink right back into the studies that she had momentarily abandoned. She found that everything suddenly made far more sense. Although the book that she had started out with was only of limited help, there were several others in the stack, most notably one about the Fair Folk, that she had found to be so full of interesting information that every line seemed to be seared into her memory.

She had read of the legends surrounding the Goblin King, who was said to snatch children wished away by their caregivers and take them to his kingdom, where they were turned into Goblins to add to the ever growing number of citizens in his domain. When that book had mentioned the Labyrinth, she been startled out of her reading. Picking up the red leather volume that belonged to Sarah, she had tried once more to open it, wondering if it contained the legend that she had been reading in the other book. Finding that she was still unable to so much as lift the cover, she had put the little book back down and continued with the rest. Reading on, she became convinced that Sarah had wished away a child, probably Toby given the strange knowledge he seemed to possess, and had then taken up the Goblin King's challenge and won. This theory certainly dovetailed nicely with Sarah's comments on how the book had led her to her greatest adventure.

A later chapter in that same book spoke of the other Realms that were to be found around the Goblin Kingdom. Katie learned that the Goblin King did not rule in a vacuum, but was surrounded by others like himself. Fae, the book called them; although it admitted that over the years, humanity had given them many different names. They had been called the Fair Folk, Fairies, Good Folk, the Hidden People, Fata, tylwyth teg, Tuath Dé, Aos Sí… No matter what they were called, she found that they were generally feared and sometimes even hated by humanity. This had caused them to withdraw almost entirely from the world of humankind. Their visits here were now few and far between, and were generally limited to Samhaín, Imbolc, and Beltane. The books claimed that their laws now forbade them to interfere with humans in any fashion.

It was in another book, 'Nighttime creatures', that Katie finally came across a description of the creature that she had seen in Danny's room. Apparently, she had seen a succubus, a demon, a daughter of the first wife God had created for Adam. Katie read several different accounts of how Lilith had fallen from grace and come to bear her demonic offspring. She shuddered at the thought of the abuse that Danny must have been suffering during the creatures visitations. According to the book, the daughters of Lilith were capable of sucking the life right out of anyone they attached themselves to, male or female, although they generally preferred men. Either way, their ministrations were always horrible, and generally sexual in nature.

After that Katie had moved on, learning much at a surprisingly fast rate. It seemed that time had almost stood still while she read her way through the entire stack of books in a single night. She had read about dwarves and elves, fairies and nymphs, and many other creatures, both evil and benign. An entire cast of fairytale creatures, including goblins, came alive for her through those books. Every so often Katie would be distracted by a flash of movement in her peripheral vision. Several times she had caught the flutter of tiny wings or the scurrying of little feet. Once or twice she had even thought she felt an ominous presence in the tiny studio apartment. On jerking up to look, however, Katie had been unable to see anything directly. She should have been unnerved, but somehow, she wasn't. It was as if her emotions had been turned off as she read, and she was able to not only accept what she was reading, but also accept that she was able to see and hear these things in her ordinary, everyday world.

When she closed the cover on the last book in the stack, Katie had looked at the clock, shocked that it was not yet midnight. Still in a slight daze, she mumbled, "I guess I just got really wrapped up. Never read that fast before…" Rising from the table, she shed her clothing, leaving it in a heap on the floor rather than placing it in the hamper like she always did. Pulling an oversize t shirt over her head, Katie climbed into the bed and was instantly asleep.

Sometime later, Katie jerked awake, all her senses on high alert. She could see nothing at all in the darkness of her apartment. Even the electric glow of her alarm clock was missing. As her eyes roamed around the apartment, she saw a figure leaning against the wall that separated her tiny bathroom from the rest of the apartment.

"Who's there?" Katie asked, hating the high breathy sound of her voice as she spoke. Stealthily, her hands searched her bedside table for her phone. Remembering that she had moved it across the room because she kept knocking it over, she cursed quietly to herself.

There was a chuckle from across the room and the figure pushed itself away from the wall. Scrambling out of the bed, Katie yanked the drawer in her nightstand open and pulled out the can of mace that she kept there. Light bloomed behind her and she spun around with a cry, holding the can out in front of her, ready to spray the intruder at the first sign of an attack.

When her eyes adjusted to the light, she looked for the source and was shocked to see a ball of light that appeared to be floating in midair. Below it stood the person who had somehow broken into her apartment. One look at him told her that he was not human. Not with his unearthly good looks and feathery hair. He smiled a bit wolfishly and said, "Hello, Katie. You can put that can of mace down. I have no intention of hurting you. I want to help you."

Refusing to lower the mace, Katie began to edge toward the door. Hoping to keep him talking until she could figure out what to do, she asked, "Help me with what?"

"Why, finding Sarah, of course."

At the mention of her friends name, Katie lowered her arm and stared openly at the person before her. He had pale skin and slightly pointed ears. He was tall, towering over her five and a half foot frame easily. A black leather vest fit snugly over his billowing red shirt. Skintight black pants and high black boots completed his ensemble. As her eyes roamed over the obvious evidence of his gender, Katie blushed slightly at the thoughts that popped into her head. The only thing about him that held any other color were his eyes. They were as blue as glacial ice and stared at her in amusement, seemingly nonplussed by her intense inspection of his person.

"What do you know about Sarah? Who are you?"

"Sarah has been taken Underground, of course." He shifted his stance and pulled a crystal from midair. Holding it up, he held it out to Katie. Katie carefully approached, mace can held tightly in her hand, ready to spray at him at any moment. As she peered into the crystal that sat on the tips of his fingers, she saw scenes from another world. Strange animals and plants flashed before her vision. She saw grand mountain vistas and vast grasslands, empty deserts and crashing waves.

When she felt that she had seen enough to be polite, Katie stepped back and eyed the man again. "You must be the 'Magic Man' that Toby spoke of." Her eyes widened in realization. "You're the Goblin King! Show me Sarah! Bring her back!" she demanded, pointing to the crystal.

He shook his head, causing the hair that framed his face to sway back and forth with the motion. "I'm sorry, I can't do that. Sarah is missing."

Distracted by imagining what it would feel like to touch his hair, it took Katie a moment for his words to sink in. When they did, all thoughts of the probably silkiness of his hair fled. "What do you mean missing? If she's in your world and she's missing, then why are you here bothering me instead of searching for her!?" She realized that she was now yelling at this handsome stranger and blushed a deep red. "Sorry, I'm just really worried about her."

One corner of his mouth tilted up in a half smile. "Apology accepted. I'm here because I thought you might be able to help me. I am actively searching for her, but it came to my attention that you were doing the same thing Above. I thought it would be far more efficient if I offered you the opportunity to continue your search somewhere that you might actually find Sarah, rather than fruitlessly searching your world for someone who is no longer here." As he spoke, he fidgeted with the crystal in his hands, clumsily passing it back and forth from hand to hand.

Katie eyed him speculatively. "And if I do help you in your search, what assurances do I have that you will return us both to our homes after Sarah is found?"

She watched as the Fae with the dark hair turned away and walked across the room to examine the items sitting on top of her dresser. "You would be welcome to stay or go, as you please, but Sarah can no longer live Above. Her destiny lies in the Underground."

He didn't actually say it, but Katie heard the tacit 'with me' that he might as well have tacked on to the end of the sentence, and she hesitated. Katie;s mind sorted through all of the information that she had so recently acquired about the Fae. "What do you want with Sarah? What does she have to do with you?"

Without turning, he answered, "Years ago, she wished away her baby brother. She then accepted the challenge and ran the Labyrinth to get him back."

"I take it that she won, since Toby has not been transformed into a goblin but remains alive and well in this world."

The Fae hesitated for a moment at the mention of Toby and then he casually strolled over to the table, which was scattered with the books she had been reading. Katie was fascinated to see that the orb of light followed him as he moved about the apartment. His eyes roamed over the messy stacks for a moment before he spoke again. "She did, she was then returned to her home, as she wished."

"If you returned her home before, why is she back in your world again?" She watched as he reached out a hand toward Sarah's book. Suddenly, between one blink and then next, he had jerked his hand back with a hiss of pain. He turned away from the table, with an odd mix of anger and disappointment clearly evident on his features.

When he noticed her eyes fixed on him, he recovered his composure. "She wished to be there," he told her simply.

Katie narrowed her eyes as she watched him wander back over to her dresser again. He seemed to be fascinated with the knicks knacks she kept there, a collection of mythical creatures. What he told her did make some sense, as she knew that Sarah had been unhappy about being left to live solely with her stepmother. Something about this entire situation made Katie uneasy, though. It just didn't seem quite right.

"Why does Sarah have to stay in your world? What if she wants to come home?"

He lifted a small dragon and examined it. "That is no longer possible."

"But why?" She could tell that he was getting irritated with her questions, but Katie was not about to blindly trust him, not after all that she had learned about how the Fae used to interact with humans. Her tiny apartment was beginning to feel far too small with this intimidating man standing in it.

"Because she has beaten the Labyrinth and is now bound to it, and it's ruler." His irritation was beginning to show. "Will you help me find her or not?"

Katie didn't like the idea that Sarah could not return, and didn't trust him to return her to this world, should she go with him. Remembering what she had read about the trickery of the Fae, Katie said, "I don't think so. I'm not going anywhere with you. You can't even show me proof that Sarah is actually in the Underground. This could all be some trick to draw Sarah out. If she is bound to the Labyrinth, and to you, then how is she missing?"

He turned to face her, the look of amusement that had been on his face before was gone and he seemed slightly more menacing than he had. Katie took an involuntary step backwards and swallowed the scream that had risen in her throat. He stared at her for a moment before shrugging. "Suit yourself." He held up the crystal once again. No longer clear, it now had swirls of red moving sluggishly through it. "I will leave this here with you. Should you change your mind, simply hold it in your hand, wish to be in the Underground, and you will find yourself there. I will make sure there is someone there to meet you and help with your search for your friend. I will likely be busy with my own search."

He placed the crystal in a small bowl on her dresser and then disappeared without waiting for her to reply. As soon as he was gone, the apartment was once again plunged into darkness. Stumbling toward the red numbers on her alarm clock, which was now working again, marking the location of her bedside table, Katie fumbled with the lamp switch. Finding it, she turned it on and searched the room for any evidence that what she had just experienced was more than a dream. When her eyes fell on the crystal on her dresser, she walked over and stared at it, afraid to touch it. Dumbly, Katie stared at it for a full five minutes before she moved again. If it weren't for that small bit of evidence, she might have dismissed the entire incident as a dream. The crystal, with it's swirling red and white mists and faint magical glow, told her that she really had been speaking to a magical being, right here in her apartment.

Katie drifted around her tiny apartment for a while; ostensibly trying to calm herself down, but really just replaying the interaction over and over in her mind. Had she made the right decision? Should she go Underground and try to find Sarah, even knowing that the Goblin King wasn't inclined to return her to her home where she belonged? Eventually she realized that all the restless fidgeting in the world was not going to solve the problem.  _I'll think better in the morning anyway, after I've gotten some decent sleep_ , she thought to herself as she climbed into the bed and switched off the lamp once again.

Two hours later, she was still awake, tossing and turning while she worried about Sarah and what was going on. Once again, Katie began to question whether or not she should have followed the Fae when he returned to his home to look for Sarah, despite her mistrust. "This is ridiculous!" Katie exclaimed as she sat up and turned the lamp back on.

The crystal sat innocuously in the bowl on the dresser where Katie usually kept small pieces of jewelry. She looked at it and made a decision. She got out of bed and rummaged around in her one and only closet to find her old backpack. Once she found it, she set it on the bed and began to pull things out and put them in. She placed several changes of clothes in, and then she retrieved Sarah's book from the table and placed it in before adding more clothing on top. Whatever this book was, she wasn't about to leave it here, unguarded. She remembered the Fae's interest in the book, and his inability to touch it and hesitated, wondering again if she really ought to be taking him up on his offer. Katie knew relatively little of the Goblin King and wondered what kind of game he was playing. Katie sighed, regardless of what kind of games she was about to walk into the middle of, one thing was clear, Sarah was in some sort of trouble and needed help. Since there wasn't any other way of getting to her, Katie would just have to be on her guard as she accepted the Goblin King's offer.

She slid several water bottles into the bag along with as much food as she thought is worthwhile to carry. A few granola bars, some fruit, a couple bags of trail mix. Katie had no idea what she would be facing when she got where she was going, so she thought it prudent to be prepared. She grabbed a few female necessities and her small first aid kit. Jostling everything around, she managed to get it all in there with a tiny bit of room to spare. She added a small sewing kit and rolled up an old blanket to stuff between the straps and her back.

Katie looked around, wondering if there was anything else she was missing. When her eyes fell on the bathroom door, she decided to shower before she got dressed.  _Who knows when I'll get another chance?_

After showering, Katie towel dried her short blonde hair and dressed comfortably in jeans and a t-shirt. Thinking ahead, she pulled a wool sweater out of the bottom drawer of her dresser and pulled it over her head, just in case. She also grabbed the old switch blade that she had picked up in her college days, when she and her friends often walked home in the dark. She slid it into the pocket of her jeans along with her emergency lighter. That had come in handy several times throughout her life and she always carried one. Out of habit, she picked up her pager and started to clip it to the waistband of her jeans before stopping. _I seriously doubt there will be service where I am going_ , she thought ruefully before putting it back down and looking around for anything else she might have missed.

Striding over to the old table in the kitchen, Katie grabbed her backpack and the rolled up blanket and settled both on her back. Seeing her notes, she grabbed the stack and folded it down until it fit into her back pocket where her phone usually was. The weight of the notes somehow helped her feel better about what she was about to do, as if she was better prepared as long as she had her notes. When she was ready, she walked over to the dresser and gingerly picked up the crystal.

_I'm going to find Sarah_ , she thought as she looked down at the crystal in her hand,  _and I will be bringing her home with me, no matter what some 'Magic Man' has to say about it!_  Her face took on a look of resolve and she squeezed her eyes shut, saying out loud, "I wish I were in the Underground." Then, Katie Byrne flickered and disappeared, just like the Fae had, leaving her tiny apartment behind.


	15. The Sight of a Water Maiden

**Disclaimer -** While I do own so much of this story that I am writing, I can lay no claim to anything that is recognizable from the movie. I am just happy that I am allowed to play in the Underground without reprisals from those who own it!

A/N - A generous thanks to my little sister doing a bit of editing for me, even if she wasn't exactly up for it at the time, Lol! Other than that, this chapter is rather under edited. Be nice, and if you see a mistake, drop me a PM! I hope you enjoy the chapter! Cheers!

* * *

On leaving the Council antechamber, Jareth went straight to the Arrival Hall in Fialis without stopping to acknowledge any of the minor nobles and Court functionaries that tried to catch the attention of the Crown Prince as he strode through the palace. Most of them took a single look at his expression and promptly decided that they did not need to speak to the Goblin King as badly as they previously had. Jareth knew that his foul mood would likely be remarked on, especially considering the announcement of his betrothal to the Lady Belinda would be publicized for the first time the following day, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.

Once through the portal and back in his own Realm, Jareth let his shoulders slump dejectedly while he wandered through the castle in an aimless fashion, all of his earlier resolution to act gone. He had intended to speak to Ethan and then pay an unexpected visit to Hoggle, but his heart just wasn't in it. He considered heading out to the Labyrinth to begin another round of repairs, but decided against that when he realized the lateness of the hour. The sun was falling below the western horizon and the shadows were lengthening. He had spent most of the afternoon in Council without being aware of it, and it was well after time for the evening meal. Had he thought about the time involved in Council membership, he might have made another decision when Diermuid challenged his right to a seat at the table.  _Oh well,_  he thought,  _what's done is done_. He would have to learn to deal with the increased workload. Speaking of workload, he still had yet to hire a personal secretary...

His aimless meanderings were interrupted by a servant girl that he had never seen before. He had thought that he knew everyone within the Castle Beyond the Goblin City but he did not know this woman. "Pardon me, Your Majesty, but the General heard you were back and sent me to find you. I am to inquire as to whether you would care to dine with him in the small dining hall." She dropped a graceful curtsey and looked up through her lashes coquettishly.

Jareth thought about it and decided against joining Ethan. He was in no mood to be sociable and would probably be terrible company in any case. "Tell the General that I will be retiring to my room and I am not to be disturbed. I shall join him for breakfast in the morning at the usual time."

"Very good, Your Majesty. Do you require any service in your personal chambers?" She smiled seductively and he couldn't help but notice that her brown hair and even white teeth were very attractive. The way she subtly emphasized the word 'service' left no doubt in his mind as to the kinds of tasks she had in mind.

"No, thank you anyway." He turned his back and walked away. The servant stared after him, a look of disappointment and hurt crossing her face. Despite what everyone in the Underground thought about him and his reputation, it had been over five years since Jareth had sought companionship of the type that the servant girl had offered. Making a mental note to ask Ethan where the girl had come from, Jareth made for his private chambers.

Upon arriving, he immediately poured himself a drink with the intention of getting roaring drunk in an attempt to block out the knowledge that he was now promised to a woman that he knew nothing about and cared nothing for. The glass was only halfway to his lips when he sighed and put it back down on the sideboard, completely untouched. Drinking would solve nothing and only serve to make him feel like death warmed over the next day. It was an indulgence which he would have no time for tomorrow.

Jareth drifted over to one of the many windows that overlooked the Labyrinth. As he stared out at the moonlit expanse of stone and dying greenery, Jareth's thoughts turned once again from his newly expanded responsibilities, to Sarah. He searched the maze with his eyes as though he would be able to seek her out from the window. He was worried about her. The fact that she was carrying far too much power for her mortal form to handle had not been forgotten. It had just been pushed to the back of his mind as he was forced to focus on more immediate issues. As it was, Sarah was a danger to others as well as in peril herself. If that power she carried should flare out of control, the effects could be catastrophic. Suddenly, the thought of that power gave him another idea. The power of the Labyrinth had been waning as it slowly sickened and died, the power that Sarah now held should stand out like a beacon in the fading sea of the Labyrinth's magic.

Closing his eyes, he cast his mind out over the Labyrinth. He searched the pathways for any source of strong magic. He didn't find anything and he kept running into dead ends in the streams of power that should not have been there. When he was unable to locate her personally, he focused his thoughts on the remaining Guardians that he knew were somewhere out there in the Labyrinth. He found several, all in close proximity to the castle, but none had seen or heard anything about Sarah. When he tried to locate Guardians further afield, Jareth was dismayed to find that the breakdown of the physical Labyrinth had also precipitated the breakdown of the magical communications that allowed him to keep in touch with the Guardians. He was able to reach less than a quarter of the way through the Great Maze with this method, thanks to those dead ends he had noticed earlier. Cursing the damage and his own stupidity for allowing things to get so bad, he gave up and turned from the window in disgust.

The Goblin King moved through the lavish sitting room and into his private bedchamber. Shedding his clothing, he eyed the door of his bathing chamber. While he was still sore from the rigors of the day, he was even more exhausted mentally. Deciding that he would rather have sleep than a relaxing bath, Jareth collapsed onto the bed. Pulling a sheet over himself and drawing one of the many pillows against his chest, Jareth almost immediately fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

Jareth found himself walking through a forest, much like the one in the southern portion of the Labyrinth. Rather than the nighttime Labyrinth that he had just been gazing at from his window, this one appeared to be bathed in the dusty glow of twilight. He stared around, momentarily bemused and wary by the time change. Then, Jareth realized that he was dreaming, and he relaxed. He was not generally a lucid dreamer, but when you lived as long as he had, it was bound to happen a few times. He decided to just go with it.

As he moved easily along the forest floor, he became aware of movement off to his left. Angling closer, he realized that he was tracking the movements of a woman. She was shivering despite the fact that she appeared to be wearing a black wool coat. Her long brown hair stirred in the chill breeze as she stumbled through the forest. His heart jumped as he realized it was Sarah. She stopped in front of a thicket and Jareth was about to call out to her when she suddenly jumped backwards and then fell heavily to the ground as a huge manticore leaped out of the bushes at her. Jareth tried to rush forward but found himself unable to move. Helplessly, he watched as Sarah struggled to her feet with a shriek and ran off into the forest, the beast hot on her heels. Only when both Sarah and the Manticore were out of sight could he move again.

It felt like hours as he caught up with and then watched the Manticore stalk Sarah through the forest. Unable to help, Jareth wondered why he was having this dream, even as he fought to either act to protect Sarah or waken from the dream. Eventually, the Manticore cornered Sarah in a ring of rocks. Using all his strength, Jareth managed to break into the ring just as the beast was about to strike. With an angry shout, he leaped forward, all restriction on his movement gone as though it had never existed. Finding his sword in his hand, he slashed at the tail of the creature, lopping off it's stinger, along with the top quarter of it's tail. The beast hissed and growled at him, turning away from Sarah to face him. With grim determination, Jareth battled the Manticore. Parrying a deadly swipe from the creature's claw with his sword, he stepped in close and hacked at it's eyes with a dagger that had suddenly appeared in his hand. The dagger slid easily through the eye and into the Manticore's skull. It fell at his feet, dead.

Anxiously, Jareth turned to the dream Sarah. Despite his certainty that none of it was real, he could not help but worry that she had been hurt. She was staring at him in fascination and fear. "You… you saved me!" Her voice was high and uncertain, as though she couldn't believe what had just happened.

Jareth dropped his weapons on the leaf littered ground and advanced quickly toward her. She squeaked and backed up a few steps but otherwise held her ground as he approached. He wanted to sweep her in his arms and carry her off to a safe place, but her reaction to him made him stop short. "Are you hurt?" he asked gruffly?

Sarah shook her head, eyeing him warily for a few moments. He reached out a hand but dropped it when she once again moved away from him, her eyes hardening in anger. He turned away with a curse, intending to leave her. The sound of her voice stopped him in his tracks as she said scathingly, "No, I'm not hurt. No thanks to you. I don't know why you bothered  _this_  time. This is just a dream. You weren't there when it actually happened, and I nearly died."

"What?" He whirled around to face her.

Her eyes were blazing and she was standing there with her hands on her hips as she faced off against him. Her coat was gone and her bedraggled hair had been pulled back off her face. She was wearing a long green cloak over Aboveground clothes and she looked far less frail than she had the last time he had seen her in person. She looked absolutely regal, despite the lingering evidence of her long illness. Seeing her this way, standing out in the damp moonlit forest, he couldn't help but think she was magnificent.

"I am not impressed with your heroics. This wasn't real. It already happened and I escaped without your help... or interference." The wind picked up and whipped several loose strands of hair in front of her eyes. Sarah raised a hand and brushed it back while he watched every move.

Jareth stood as if turned to stone. Was she actually taking him to task for not coming to her rescue? The cheek! He supposed, given that he was dreaming, that it was no more than a reflection of his own guilt at not having been there to rescue her, but still. It wasn't as if she had called for him.

"Had you called, I would have been there!" he told her.

"Riiight," she replied sarcastically. "You were the one who left me on my own out on the edge of the Labyrinth. I believe your exact words were '...come find me. You know where I'll be!'" She flung his own words back at him mockingly, daring him to refute the fact that he had left her alone, ill and weak, outside the Labyrinth.

"And I believe your words ran along the lines of 'Fuck you, I can take care of myself…'" he reminded her dryly. "What is a man to do when you send such mixed signals?"

"Mixed signals!?" she exclaimed. "You're one to talk! You offered me my dreams, but only if I was willing to fear and obey you. Before that, you had Hoggle, a trusted friend, feed me a drugged piece of fruit. You then proceeded to try and seduce me. I am  _not_  the one sending mixed signals."

She was getting more and more worked up as he watched. Her beautiful green eyes had deep shadows in them and he wondered what she was thinking of to cause such a haunted look. He moved until he was standing toe to toe with her. Although he generally would have stood almost a head taller than she was, he found that she was now no more than a few inches shorter. Looking down, he realized that she was standing on a large flat rock, while he stood in a slight depression next to the rock, effectively erasing his height advantage. It was an inane thing to notice, except that it put her at the perfect height for kissing, and allowed him to easily look right into her eyes. "Sarah… that peach…that... that was a mistake." He stumbled over the explanation. He didn't know why he was pleading with what was surely just a fabrication of his own mind, but he desperately wanted her to know that he had not intended to hurt her.

"Which part? The part where you tried to seduce me? Or the part where it nearly killed me?"

"I don't know!" he yelled, frustrated by the relentless questioning. "It was a mistake, just a stupid mistake! I never meant to hurt you!"

Her hand shot out and cracked across his cheek. His head snapped to the right and his left cheek stung. When he looked back at her there were tears in her eyes and the deep sadness that was not alleviated by them. "Well you did, Jareth. I nearly died! I spent years fighting for my life and you were nowhere to be found! Then, the very day I return to the Underground, I nearly die, again. And once again, you weren't there!" Sarah shoved him again and again as she spoke, wildly beating against his chest as the tears streaked down her face.

"Sarah…" He stood helplessly under the onslaught, not knowing how to react.  _This is the strangest dream I've ever had_ , he thought inanely. He lifted his hands and placed them firmly on her upper arms, holding her away from him. He half expected her to struggle out of his grasp, but she didn't.

She stopped her spastic blows and wrapped her arms around her own waist, hunching her shoulders. "I hate you," she said vehemently, shaking her head and looking away from him. There was no more anger in her voice, just a deep sadness and conviction. "I… You weren't there when I needed you and I hate you!" Sarah buried her face in her hands and tried to turn away from him but he held her still.

"You needed me?" Jareth was shocked at the admission, regardless of the fact that it most likely came from his own subconscious mind. He had never before considered that she might have needed him. He had seen only her rejection, and his own pain. The thought only made his poor judgement and stupidity all that much clearer. In despair, Jareth dropped his hands from her arms and turned away from her. When he turned back again she was gone.

Jareth spent the rest of the night trying to find her.

* * *

The following morning, Ethan sat in the dining hall, absently reading over the reports from the previous days skirmish in the Labyrinth while he ate breakfast. As far as they could tell, every orc in the raiding party had been wiped out. There was some confusion about the total count, but it hardly mattered. With the Labyrinth in the state it was in, a lone creature, even an orc, was far more likely to end up  _in_  trouble than to cause trouble. Still. He would send out further patrols into an ever expanding area around the point of contact for the next week or so to ensure that they had not missed any enemies.

He looked up as Jareth entered the room. His sovereign and friend had an odd, haunted look on his face this morning and he seemed tired. Jareth nodded at him but said nothing as he walked to the buffet and filled a plate. He was silent as he ate some of the food and pushed the rest around his plate for nearly ten minutes. Finally Ethan got fed up watching Jareth and asked, "What is wrong with you today? Did the Council meeting not go well?"

Jareth heaved a sigh and visibly shrugged off whatever had been on his mind as he ate. A servant quietly picked up the dirty plates. Ethan watched Jareth pick up a mug of hot coffee that another servant set next to his plate and take a sip of the hot liquid, savoring it in silence for a few moments before answering Ethan's question. "I am now a full member of the Council," Jareth informed him.

Ethan's eyebrows shot up. "Really! Well, while I know that you had avoided taking this step up until now, I hardly see why you look so glum about it."

"I am also now betrothed," Jareth told him shortly.

Ethans jaw actually dropped at this stunning revelation. Clearly he had missed a great deal while he was out chasing orcs through the forest. "To whom?"

Jareth waved his hand dismissively. "The banns will be published in the main square in Fialis this afternoon. Her father is a high ranking noble in the Fairy Kingdom."

Ethan waited, but there was no more information forthcoming from Jareth. Finally he prompted, "What's her name and what does she look like? What are her family connections?"

"I believe her name is Belinda and her father's name is Gethin, as I recall. It hardly matters. I am to begin courting her at once and I will be expected to set a date within the year." Jareth was obviously not pleased at this prospect. While his voice seemed to indicate that he was utterly apathetic, as did his expression, Ethan could still see the haunted look deep in his friends mismatched eyes. Knowing what he did about the girl, Sarah, Ethan was not surprised at the Goblin King's reaction to the arrangement.

"Congratulations?" Ethan offered.

"Thank you," Jareth replied shortly. "Now, what can you tell me about yesterday's raid?"

Startled at the abrupt change of subject, Ethan dithered for a moment before grabbing a report and looking for the figures that he wanted. "Ah… yes. Uhm… It appears that the raiding party numbered 13, an odd choice," he commented in passing. "We do not know what their objective was and it is assumed that we interrupted them before they could complete their mission."

Jareth nodded and motioned for Ethan to continue, which he did. "We lost only four troops and sustained a few minor injuries, but nothing life threatening. All in all I would say a very successful sweep on our part."

Jareth nodded in approval. "I am glad that there were only a few casualties over all. I trust that the minor wounds have been seen to?" Ethan nodded and Jareth continued, leaning back in his chair. "Just a few minor details for you to correct, though."

Ethan's eyes widened. "And those would be?"

Before Jareth could reply, Diona entered the dining hall. Both men immediately stood and would have bowed before her, had she not waived the gesture away. While Jareth resumed his seat, Ethan came forward to greet the old woman.

"Revered Priestess, it is an honor to be in your presence. Forgive me, but I had thought that you had journeyed to the next world after I heard about the tragic loss of your daughter." Ethan took Diona's hand and bowed low over it. "Her loss was a blow to many. I mourned her, deeply." he said with a sorrowful voice. It had been many years since he had entertained thoughts of the woman he had loved in his youth.

Diona smiled at him. "She was very fond of you, Ethan. I am glad that you remember her with affection." Ethan smiled gently and helped Diona to a seat at the table before filling a plate and bringing it to her himself.

Can I get you anything else, Revered Priestess?" he queried after he set a full plate in front of her.

"No, Thank you, General Ethan," she said, surprising him slightly with her knowledge of his rank. His surprise must have shown on his face because she smiled humorously as she lifted her fork and knife to cut into the sausage on her plate. "I may have been keeping a low profile, dear boy, but I have not been so out of touch as to fail to keep tabs on the important events."

"Indeed, Revered Priestess, your knowledge is quite impressive, as always." Ethan bowed low once more as he made his way back to his seat.

"Please, Ethan, just call me Diona, as you did when you were a child. There is no need for all this formality. We have all established that we are aware of one another's rank at this point. Don't you two let me keep you from your discussion now," she added, beginning to break her fast.

Ethan chuckled and shook his head at her lack of hauteur and turned back to Jareth, leaving Diona to eat her meal unobserved. "What were those minor details you wished me to correct, Jareth?"

"There were fifteen orcs, not thirteen, and they were led by Mathyn." Jareth said shortly.

At that, Ethan, who had been reclining idly in his chair, bolted upright. "Mathyn was here!? I told you that he was behind this nonsense Jareth! What was he after?"

Jareth nodded to Diona. "Diona gave me a message from the miscreant. It seems that he was in search of Sarah as well as my throne."

Ethan's suspicions, which had been partially lulled into slumber by Jareth's insistence that Sarah could not be involved with any plot involving the missing Prince, came roaring back to wakefulness. He stood stiffly, saying, "Jareth, I know you don't want to hear this, but I still suspect that the girl is somehow involved in a plot by your brother to harm you."

Jareth's face grew incensed and Diona exclaimed in horror, "Absolutely not!"

"Diona is correct, Ethan. I have told you before, Sarah has nothing to do with that dirty traitor. In fact, he says that he is searching for her." Jareth had turned away from the table after offering Ethan one single ferocious look and the General could no longer see his King's face.

He hesitated a moment before saying, "Aye, so you've said, but I cannot shake my suspicions so easily as you seem to be able to. It is possible that he was looking for her because she is in league with him."

Jareth rounded on him, "I will hear no more of this!" he thundered. Ethan quailed slightly under the furious gaze of his longtime friend. "You are to widen the search for her. Take as many men out into the field as you think you'll need. You may  _think_  whatever you wish, Ethan, but I swear by the Fates that if you harm one hair on Sarah's head, I will have you banished to the lowest posting I can find in the Goblin Kingdom!" Without waiting for a reply, Jareth turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the solid wooden door behind him.

Looking at Diona, who was also clearly agitated, Ethan sighed. He could not help his suspicions. In his mind, it made all the sense in the world that the girl was a planted agent. Before she had appeared, everything had been fine. The Labyrinth was whole, Jareth was a pleasant, typical bachelor, and the kingdom was peaceful. After she came, and then left just as abruptly, it seemed like all hell had broken loose. Ethan pulled out the chair he had occupied during his meal and sprawled into it wearily. After a few minutes of reflective silence, he looked up to see Diona watching him with interest.

"My apologies if I upset you, Diona."

Diona nodded her acceptance. "Unlike Jareth, I am not blinded by emotion. I understand your position, but I join him in proclaiming Sarah's lack of involvement in the plot you suspect."

"I cannot help but be suspicious!" Ethan exclaimed.

"Of course not. It is your job to be wary of anything that could negatively impact the kingdom. However, I think that to entertain any misgivings about Sarah causing harm to Jareth or the Labyrinth is ill-advised. What you should be worrying about is that some evil will befall Sarah herself. Every hour that passes without any sign of her increases my anxiety for her." Ethan watched in surprise as Diona actually wrung her hands pensively and got up to pace behind her chair.

"What is it about this girl that has everyone believing that she can't possibly be involved in any wrongdoing?" Ethan muttered in frustration. He meant only to vent his feelings, however, Diona must have heard him. She looked sharply in his direction and he suddenly wanted to sink into the ground. He hadn't meant to question the judgement of the Revered Priestess.

She asked, "Have you read the prophecies, General?"

He shook is head slowly. "No, I don't believe in that superstitious nonsense. I believe in a logical explanation for everything."

Diona turned to face him across the table, gripping the back of her chair as she stood behind it. "So, you have become a true military man. Pragmatic and used to dealing only with things you can see and touch." She smiled mischievously as him. "I am sure that when you finally see Sarah, you will understand why I am so adamant about her lack of involvement with the enemies we are now facing."

"And why is that? How will simply seeing her change my opinion?"

Diona turned and made her way slowly to the door without replying to his queries. She opened it and then turned back to look at him. "Seeing her will change your mind, Ethan, trust me, it will." With that parting shot, Diona left, following Jareth and leaving Ethan alone to plan further sweeps into the Labyrinth while pondering her cryptic words.

* * *

Diona entered the throne room to find Jareth staring moodily into space as he sprawled on his throne, listening to the courtier in front of him drone on about something. The room was full of various creatures, both noble and common alike, all gathered before their King to air their grievances. Several elves were grouped together off to the side, they watched the speaker with intense gazes. It was clear to Diona that they had an interest in whatever matter was being presented to the King.

Looking around the room, Diona saw many more Labyrinth dwellers than traditional courtiers. There, on a table, was a tiny family of worms that looked to be refugees. She surmised that their home had become unlivable as the Labyrinth fell apart. A dryad sat huddled in the corner, clearly uncomfortable so far away from her tree. She kept darting her eyes around nervously, looking mostly at a group of dwarves bearing axes. They had the look of woodsmen, and Diona wondered whether they were here in connection with the dryad or not. There were several groups of people that were clearly not from the Labyrinth as well and Diona knew they must have traveled from the outer sections of the kingdom to have their issues heard. Clearly Jareth had an open door policy when it came to his subjects and would not be free to speak with her until he had dealt with other matters. Sighing, Diona sat in a chair placed along the side wall of the throne room to wait, unobserved, while Jareth tended to his kingdom. Things had been much easier when he was a child, she mused.

As she sat there, she mused on the discussion that she needed to have with Jareth. From his reactions, she was fairly certain that he had feelings for Sarah, but she needed to ascertain how deep those feelings went. Her plans for the last Airíoch were based on an inconsistent set of prophecies that were not clear to anyone, even her. Should he harbor any serious feelings for Sarah, then parts of the prophecy would become much easier to interpret, while others would become even murkier. The part that particularly concerned her at the moment read:  _Should the guardian defeat the king, then shall darkness spread unopposed across the land; lest an alliance be formed_.

It was clear to Diona that the Airíoch had already defeated the King. That had happened years ago. What concerned her now was the alliance that this particular line of prophecy spoke of and the darkness it foretold. Having witnessed, first hand, the raids that were now taking place all over the realms, Diona thought that she had a good idea of what the darkness was going to entail. There would be war and destruction, but to what purpose? It seemed likely that the ultimate goal of any invading army, orcs or otherwise, would be to gain control over the Croí Foinse. It's waters welled with the magic that sustained the Underground and the Labyrinth itself. Surging up from deep under the Labyrinth, the source of the magical water was a sacred mystery that was traditionally known only to the High King and the members of Diona's order.

With a slight smile on her face, Diona allowed her mind to drift back to a time when she had been just one of many Priestesses. She had enjoyed the sisterhood and camaraderie that existed amongst the novitiates. As the daughter of the Revered Priestess, she had always known that she would follow in her mother's footsteps one day, first joining, and then leading the sisterhood that defended, and watched over the Sacred Spring. Although the Priestesses had been dwindling in number since she was born, Diona's future had been bright, until the purge.

She had been very young, barely through her novitiate, when a plague of madness and death had swept through the ranks of the Priestesses. Few had been spared and everyone lived in terror, fearful that they would be the next to fall ill or go mad. Diona herself was sent away, for her own safety. She had traveled deep into the Wood Elven Realm, never staying in any place for long and always hiding who she was. It was during this time that she met the man who ultimately fathered her only child. Their happiness was brief. Diona's fear that the same fate that befell the rest of the Priestesses would somehow find her, forced them to keep on the move and live on the fringes of the Realms. Not long after the birth of their daughter, her husband was killed by unknown enemies who attacked their small homestead.

Grief stricken, and not knowing what else to do, Diona decided to risk going home. Taking her infant daughter with her, she returned to the Labyrinth. When she finally made it to the cavern containing the Croí Foinse, she had found the formerly bustling complex silent and littered with the dead. Without a Goblin King and his court, there had been no one but the Guardians in the Labyrinth to help her commit the dead to the eternal flame. She had raised her daughter as she had been raised, in the Foinse Abbey complex under the Castle Beyond the Goblin City.

Snapping herself out of her reverie, Diona looked around the throne room. The last case had obviously been heard and only Jareth remained in the room. He had not yet moved from his throne. When he showed no signs of moving from his seat, Diona stood and approached him.

"Jareth, I think we need to have a discussion."

Jareth visibly pulled himself back to the present and stood. "Must we do this now, Diona? I have a great deal of work to do out in the Labyrinth."

She eyed him critically and decided that he needed to be pulled sharply out of his sulk. "Jareth, I know that you are conflicted about this betrothal, and about Sarah. We need to find her. She is carrying a tremendous amount of power and if we don't get her to the Croí Foinse and perform the ritual, she is going to flare out of control. Even if she doesn't, she will eventually waste away."

"You presume a great deal, Diona. I may not have wanted this betrothal, but there is no reason that Sarah's presence in the Underground should conflict with that. I am aware that some of my past actions may have made it… risky... for Sarah to be wandering around with so much power. However, I am not the one who gifted her with it. What were you thinking Diona? Why force her down this path?" Jareth clenched his fists and she watched the play of emotions that danced across his face carefully, trying to ascertain the depth of his feelings for Sarah.

"I do what is necessary, Jareth. You know that."

"But why? Why was it necessary to risk her life?" The hint of anguish in his voice spoke louder than all his denials about the depth of his feelings for Sarah. Even though he was clearly not ready to admit it, even to himself, Diona could tell that Jareth had lost his heart to the pretty young Airíoch.

Diona sighed. She was not sure that Jareth was ready to hear why she had arranged for Sarah to be given more power than had ever been held by any one mortal. Diona herself had channeled so much magic into the young woman that she had gotten lightheaded at opening herself up to that much power. She had been amazed that Sarah had remained conscious, let alone standing there in that receiving line. Diona had not expected the Labyrinth to push so much magic through her, or she might have balked at undertaking the task, regardless of Its insistence.

Deciding that she needed to push him further, she ignored his questions and sniffed disdainfully. "And do you also know that she is even more at risk for flaring out of control thanks to your idiocy with that peach? Had I realized that you had fed her Underground food, I would have made other arrangements."

Jareth snapped his head around to look at her. "Other arrangements?" he snarled. "I have had enough of your evasions and arguments, Diona. What is your interest in Sarah!?"

"If you care nothing for her, why does it matter?" Diona asked coolly, pushing him further still.

"What I feel is immaterial. I am betrothed to the Lady Belinda. I cannot have a mortal with dangerously unstable magic running around in my kingdom, or anywhere else in the Underground for that matter!" Jareth yelled, clearly exasperated and angry. "Now, why are you so interested in a girl who ran the Labyrinth years ago and then rejected me and her dreams!?"

Diona's mouth popped open at Jareth's unintended admission that six years ago, he had felt enough for Sarah to offer her a place at his side. Jareth, too, looked stunned to have let such closely guarded information slip. It wasn't really his fault. Diona was very good at all forms of magical persuasion and she had been quietly  _encouraging_  him to admit any feelings he might have for the Champion of the Labyrinth since she had entered the room. While his blurted question was not an admission of his current feelings for Sarah, it certainly was indicative of more than a passing fancy on his part. Diona had no inkling of the true nature of Sarah's feelings, but this new information from Jareth added a completely different facet to the ever evolving situation that they were all embroiled in.

Jareth had recovered his composure to some degree and was now glaring at her, clearly displeased. She decided that it would be better for him to know at least a portion of why she was so interested in Sarah. "Sarah is more important than you think she is."

"Why?" he snapped. "She is just an uncommonly lucky girl who happened to beat the Labyrinth."

Diona smiled at the manner in which he tried to deflect her attention away from his previous admission but took no other notice. "Her full name, Jareth. What is it?"

"It's Sarah Williams. What ab-" he stopped and thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. "No, she can't be. That's a very common name Aboveground."

"She can and she is. Sarah is the Airíoch that the Labyrinth has charged you with finding. Were you so wrapped up in the game you were playing with her six years ago that you missed the power lying dormant inside her?" She watched as his face went blank at the realization of just exactly who Sarah was.

Without a word, he straightened and dropped a crystal, emerging from the resulting swirl of magic dressed in full Court attire rather than the serviceable clothing that he had been wearing. He formed yet another crystal and was about to drop it when she reached out and gripped his arm. "Where are you going? You can't expect to just poof off into the Labyrinth and find her, and you certainly chose the wrong clothing for such a venture," she said dryly.

Jareth hesitated. "I was going to inform the Court, but…" he trailed off, looking thoughtfully at her.

She nodded. "Now that you are actually thinking about it, it seems like a bad idea, doesn't it?"

"It would likely put Sarah in even more danger. Once word gets out, there will be no way to contain the news. It would not be long before Mathyn hears of it, along with any other enemies that may be lurking in the shadows." He dropped the crystal he was holding and was once more dressed in plain clothing.

"Not to mention that the news would be likely to send Diermuid and those that support his patriarchal and puritanical views into collective apoplexy," Diona said with a wicked grin. "If it were not for the danger to Sarah, I would suggest telling them, just to see the outrage. But, while she is missing, the likelihood that someone will come across her and decide to take her out of the picture to preserve the "purity" of the Underground is too great. She must be kept safe."

Jareth was nodding in agreement. "I agree. We will have to put every available resource into finding her as quickly as possible."

"I still stand by what I said in Council, Jareth. You need to focus on the repairs to the Labyrinth. We have no idea why it has suffered so much damage, but it is imperative that the repairs are completed as quickly as possible." Diona perched on his throne and leaned her ever present staff on her shoulder as she spoke.

Jareth looked unhappy. "Finding the Airíoch will speed up the repairs. For all we know, Sarah might be able to complete the repairs instantly!" Jareth objected.

"She might, although we have lost much of the knowledge that we used to have with regard to the Airíoch's of old. What if we don't find her before a major attack comes? We have no idea who or what has caused the damage. Nor do we know what the purpose was in damaging the Labyrinth from the foundations up. I very much doubt  _that_  was a random happenstance, even if we don't yet understand why it happened." Diona said nothing of the ancient library that she had found when she returned to Foinse Abbey. It had appeared that her mother, knowing that whatever plague had struck the Abbey would be universally fatal, had sealed it away with a spell keyed to her daughter. Diona didn't have any trouble dispelling it when she had come across it upon her return, in spite of the intensity of it. The Library was also the one room in the entire complex that had suffered no damage at the hands of the insane women who had all but destroyed the rest of the once beautiful Abbey. The library contained books that were so old as to be nearly illegible, even to her. It was entirely possible that there was information in them that could tell them exactly what the capabilities of the Airíoch were. However, she did not need Jareth distracted from his duties as King. She would look into the matter herself.

"Very well," Jareth agreed reluctantly. "But if she is not found soon, I will go looking for her myself."

* * *

Katie felt as though her stomach had dropped clear out of her body. She was thankful that she had closed her eyes before making her wish, for she was certain that she didn't want to see what was going on around her. She just gritted her teeth and prayed that whatever spell had been unleashed when she wished to go the Underground would run its course and set her free as soon as possible.

Abruptly, Katie found herself sprawled uncomfortably on the damp ground. She laid there with her eyes closed for a moment, gulping air into her starved lungs. She had not realized until she landed that she had been holding her breath. Only when she became aware of the dew soaking through her sweater did she stumble to her feet. Looking around with interest, Katie found that she was in a small copse of trees on the edge of a pond. All around her was farmland, dotted here and there with lonely stands of trees that were barely visible in the waning moonlight. Sheep grazed on the far side of the pond and further out, she could just make out a fence with a small lane running beside it.

Remembering that she had been promised a guide, Katie looked around. It was odd that the Goblin King had seen fit to drop her in the middle of nowhere, practically speaking, in the middle of the night. It made her trust him even less than she had while in her apartment. If he reneged on his promise to send a guide to her, Katie was not sure what she would do. She could hardly go wandering around here on her own. She didn't have the first clue as to how to behave in this unfamiliar world.

A small, batlike shape suddenly dove out of the darkness toward her and Katie ducked down with a shriek. A small voice hissed, "Quit yelling, you want people to hear you?"

Katie stood up cautiously and peered around, searching the darkness for the owner of the voice. "Who are you? And, more to the point, where are you?"

"Look up!"

Obligingly, Katie tilted her head up. There, silhouetted against the light of the moon, was a small figure. Given it's vaguely human shape, Katie could tell that it was some sort of faery, but it took her a moment to be able to place it amongst all of the creatures she had so recently learned about. "You're a nyxie," she breathed in wonder.

"I'll come down, but only if you promise not to shriek and try to hit me," the faery warned.

Katie nodded vigorously and watched with wide eyes as the little night faery unfurled her wings and fluttered down until she was hovering in front of Katie. "Hello," breathed Katie, looking at her in wonder.

"I'm Chiara, and you must be Katie, right?" When Katie nodded, her guide continued, "Good, now that's all settled, we'd better get going."

Chiara fluttered out from under the shelter of the trees and headed across the pond, toward the distant lane that Katie had noticed earlier. "Wait!" Katie called. "Where are we going?" She moved out from under the trees but stopped at the edge of the pond, wanting more information than just the name of her supposed guide before continuing any further. Thoughts whirled rapidly through her head, none of them comforting.  _What was I thinking, coming here? I must be crazy! I don't know anything about this place. For all I know, I could be stuck here forever!_

With an aggravated sigh that Katie could hear despite the distance that separated them, Chiara turned and fluttered back toward Katie, playfully skimming the surface of the pond with her fingers as she flew. "What's the hold up?" she asked as she plopped herself on a log that stuck up out of the edge of the pond.

"I just wanted to know where we are, where we're going, and how we are going to find my friend." Katie glared down at the little nyxie. "If it's not too much trouble, that is."

"We are currently just over the border into the Goblin Kingdom. As to where we are going, we are headed to Allanar, to see if we can pick up any hint as to where the Champion of the Labyrinth might have gone."

"The Champion? Allanar? What are you talking about? None of this makes any sense." Katie crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly. "I want better answers if I am going to go anywhere with you."

Chiara groaned and rolled her eyes. "Fine, but we need to make this quick or we are going to lose the moonlight. Once that happens we will have to stop because, unlike me, you won't be able to see anything in the dark. I don't travel during the day if I can help it, so until your night vision improves, we will have limited travel time each night. We can't afford to waste any of it."

"Ok," Katie said, slightly uncertain about all of this but still willing to go along with the nyxies plan of action. "So, who is this Champion? I'm looking for my friend, Sarah."

"Sarah  _is_  the Champion of the Labyrinth. She beat the Goblin King and won back the babe that he took. So now she's famous and she's got a title." Chiara sounded impatient and she was beginning to squirm on the log, turning every which way to keep a lookout on the surrounding countryside.

"Ok." Katie was interested to find that Sarah was apparently famous here. She had not counted on  _that_  when she had resolved to come and find her friend and she hoped that it would not make her task more difficult. "So where was it that you said we should go?"

"We need to head to Allanar."

"I might be wrong, but I don't think that is where I am likely to find the Goblin King. If I remember correctly, it is the capital city of one of the elven Realms." Katie wrinkled her nose, trying to remember what she had read just hours ago about the lands that surrounded the Goblin Kingdom.

"Right!" exclaimed Chiara, jumping up and fluttering madly through the air as though she just couldn't bear to sit still any longer. "It's the capital city of the Realm of the Wood Elves!" She shot off, going around the pond this time, rather than straight over it.

"Stop!" Katie squeaked after her, remembering at the last minute not to yell. She began making her way around the pond, attempting to follow without slipping into the water and getting her shoes wet and muddy. She had not thought to bring an extra pair of sneakers with her. "I thought you were going to answer my questions before we went anywhere!"

"Can't we talk while we are moving? It is so much more efficient that way!" Chiara called back over her shoulder. She did not slow, however, and Katie was forced to walk even faster in an effort to keep up. _It's like chasing quicksilver_ , she thought in exasperation as she puffed along through the pasture.

When Katie made it to the fence line, Chiara was lounging on top of a fence post, waiting for her. "You are going to have to move faster," the nyxie informed her matter of factly, with just a trace of an insolent grin on her small face.

"What's the rush?" Katie asked. "And why are we going to the Wood Elven Realm rather than the Goblin City to start looking for Sarah?"

"We don't think she is there anymore. If she was, then she would have been found by now. Allanar is the home of Diermuid, and Diermuid has the most extensive network of spies and informants in the Underground. If anyone has seen or heard from the Champion, then it will be Diermuid's people. I thought that we could wander up there and have a look around, maybe talk to a few people I know." Abruptly Chiara sat up and eyed Katie, looking her up and down and taking note of her backpack and jacket. "Unless you have a better way to find her."

Katie thought for a moment and then shook her head. As far as she knew, Allanar was as good a place to start as any. She didn't think she had any special knowledge that would allow them to find Sarah faster. Everything she knew about this place, she had learned in the last twenty-four hours. "No, I guess that is fine. Where is the Goblin King looking?"

Chaira shifted uncomfortably before answering. "He's going to look in the Fairy Kingdom, in the other direction."

Katie nodded. It was just as well that she would not be coming into contact with the strange monarch any time soon. She wasn't sure how to feel about him. For some reason, she found him unsettling. It was probably just the fact that he wasn't human and she was unfamiliar with the Fae, but still. "Ok, which way do we need need to go?"

The Nyxie waved her hand up the dirt road to Katie's left. "That way."

Adjusting her backpack so that it sat more comfortably against her back, Katie said, "Well then, let's go. But you are going to have to slow down a little if you want to talk. I can't possibly walk as fast as you can fly."

Chiara laughed. "I'll try."

* * *

Naida floated just below the surface of her pond. Lost in dreams, she looked generally peaceful in the moonlit water. Her blue grey robes floated around her. She had kept them on, rather than discarding them in favor of the thin slip she generally wore when she was in her pond. There was a distinct chill in the night air tonight, which had reminded her that winter was not far off. Because she was a living rusalka, and not the ghost of a young woman who drowned herself when her lover left her for another, she was susceptible to the cold. When the cold got too uncomfortable, she would use the little magic that she possessed to warm the water around her, ensuring that she could survive through the winter.

Her brown hair floated, as still and unmoving as Naida herself. Had there been anyone about who had cared to look down on her as she slept in her pond, they might have mistaken her for a corpse. Suddenly, her green eyes shot open and her arms and legs jerked spasmodically. Bubbles formed at her lips as she struggled to scream underwater. Her eyes darted frantically, following the movements of something that wasn't actually there.

She didn't see the surface of the pond rippling with her thrashing, or the moon that sailed far above the surface of the water, uncaring of the events taking place in the small pond far below. Her vision was filled with images that passed by in rapid succession, one after another:

Sarah, lying deathly still in a darkened room that seemed to sway from side to side.

Another mortal woman, trudging through the forest while snow fell around her, piling up against the dark trunks of the trees.

A dwarf and a human man, standing back to back, their blades flashing as they fought off a group of orcs.

A group of troll women, seated at a table placed on a high dais, while a small, dark haired woman knelt in the center of the room, her cloak wrapped tightly around herself.

Didymus and Ambrosius, each foaming at the mouth as they attacked the gentle rock caller, Ludo.

An army standing in a great square in the middle of a city, waves of men shouting and cheering as they saluted a radiant couple in an open carriage.

The Goblin King, screaming and struggling against the restraining hands of the wraiths that held him fast, another Fae laughing at his efforts before pulling out a knife and plunging it toward the unprotected chest of the King.

The High King, carousing in a tavern, his sons by his side and a bevy of women looking on, displaying their charms.

Two assassins, one old, past his prime but still sharp, and the other young, a fresh scar marring his otherwise handsome face. Both creeping toward a tower that stood alone in a dank forest. Shadows shambled around them, moaning and slobbering for the life they used to possess.

An underground lake with a gazebo perched on a rock island out on the glassy surface. A spring within the gazebo, quietly welling up and tumbling down rocks into an intricately carved basin, while the screams and sobs of women echoed all around in the darkness over the lake.

Hoggle, in an oubliette, filthy and starving as he scrabbled amongst the trash on the floor, trying to catch a lizard that had crept into the forgotten prison.

A proud Fae, looking out over the Labyrinth with emerald green eyes before turning sadly away.

Sarah again, struggling to give birth, her face contorted in agony. First with the Goblin King at her side, holding her hand and stroking her face comfortingly. Then he disappeared. Another being took his place. It reached out clawed hands to caress Sarah's distended belly while she screamed in horror.

Dark elves, tracking something through the mountains... something that stank of death.

A succubus creeping stealthily through an opulent looking hallway, her blood red lips standing out against her pale skin.

Cities burning…

The Labyrinth crumbling…

A wedding.

A funeral.

A child.

An emerald.

An arrow.

Forget me nots in the grass…

The visions sped up, moving too fast for Naida to make sense of anything. It all became a blur before her eyes. Finally, darkness ripping open, tearing a hole through the thin barrier between the worlds as a chilling laugh echoed around her.

With a blood curdling shriek that tore at her throat, Naida erupted through the surface of her pond and clawed her way through the water, desperate to feel the firm ground underneath her once again. Her wet robes held her back and she struggled free of them, leaving them behind in the water as she launched herself onto the bank. Shivering in the night, she huddled there, sobbing at the memory of the onslaught she had suffered. Eventually, her tears stopped and she merely hiccuped and sniffled in the darkness. The moon having long since set as she cried.

The sky was just beginning to lighten as she rose and made her way through the dawn to Hoggle's house. She did not know where else to go. Naida moved as fast as her stiff and chilled body would allow. Before she was more than half way to the cottage she regretted not retrieving her robe before she left her pond, but she soldiered on, ignoring the chill and the sharp rocks that cut into her feet when she wasn't careful. Without her robes, she dried rapidly, her skin cracking as she dehydrated in the dry morning air. Naida passed several ponds along her way, but she refused to stop. She needed to get to Hoggle and convince  _him_  to help her get to Diona. She was sure that the Priestess was the only one who could make sense of what she had just experienced.

As she staggered into the clearing around Hoggle's little hut, Naida called out, "Hoggle! Hoggle, I need you!" Her voice was rough from her earlier screams and tears. At first, she thought that he had not heard her. But then the door opened, and Hoggle appeared, looking about to see who was calling him. When he spotted her, Naida saw the surprise and anxiety chase each other across his face. He hurried toward her, just as she felt likely to collapse, and wordlessly offered her his shoulder to lean on.

When he tried to lead her toward the pond closest to his house, she stopped. "Have to get the others," she rasped. "I need to get to Diona's."

"What ya need right now, little lady, is ta get inta that water before ya dry out fer good," Hoggle told her gruffly, all trace of his usually antagonistic behavior toward her gone.

With a sigh, Naida nodded and allowed him to help her into the pond. She moaned as she slipped into the water, feeling it sinking into her and washing away the blood and sweat. She leaned against the bank, her head lolling back against it as Hoggle stood nearby, waiting, no doubt, for her to tell him why she had come so far to see him, and in such a shocking state. She tried to speak, but could not seem to make her mouth form the words. Still trying to talk to the Guardian, Naida slipped into unconsciousness.

When she awoke later that day, she could hear the voices of the three friends nearby. Despite the fact that it was rude, she remained still, keeping her eyes closed as she listened in on their conversation.

"She just showed up at my door, no warnin', lookin' like she'd had a run in with some fiery's, and beggin' me ta get her ta Lady Diona."

"Did the fair maiden of the water mention why she needed to see the Pr- I mean, the Lady Diona?"

"Nah, she passed out soon as she hit the water. Didn't have the heart ta tell 'er that Diona ain't in 'er cottage no more. General Ethan passed by, lookin' for Sarah and askin' if I seen any orcs hereabouts. He said Diona's house had been attacked and the Lady had gone off ta the Castle with his Majesty."

"Well we must tell her when she awakens. She will need our help if she is to get safely to the Castle Beyond the Goblin City," Didymus told him.

"Help friend," Ludo moaned in agreement.

"Well," said Hoggle doubtfully, "I knows a few shortcuts through the Labyrinth that should still be open, but only one or two of 'em pass close enough ta water ta be a good choice for the little missy. If they're blocked..."

"We will just have to devise some other way of keeping the maiden healthy whilst we travel," Didymus said stoutly. "Surely we are crafty enough to do so."

Deciding that she had been rude long enough, Naida stirred and sighed loudly to get their attention. "I can make it. I just need to talk to Diona. Something happened that she will want to know about."

"What?" Didymus and Hoggle asked at the same time, moving into her field of vision as they approached the edge of the pond she had been sleeping in.

"I think I've started having visions," the rusalka confessed in embarrassment. Hoggle and Didymus looked a bit skeptical at her claim while Ludo simply looked at her.

"How dost thou know?" Didymus queried.

Naida shuddered at the memories that were, thankfully, fading. "I had an awful vision this morning. I couldn't move and I couldn't stop it. Images just flooded through my head. I thought I was going crazy at first, just having terrible dreams or something. But then I began to realize that I recognized people in the dreams, people I had seen before... and people I hadn't."

"Who'd ya see?" Hoggle crossed his arms.

"Jareth, the High King, dwarves, elves... all of you… Sarah…" Her voice trailed off in a whisper as she finished her list and the three friends looked at each other with concern before turning back to the rusalka.

"We'll get ya there Missy, but it might take a few days"

Naida clambered out of the pond and stood before them. "That's fine, can we please just go? Now?" Her voice held a note of urgency and tinge of fear that she could not suppress. When they hesitated, she burst out, "I'll tell you anything you want to know while we travel but I need to get to Diona as quickly as possible. I can't explain it any better than that. I just need to get to her!"

"All right, all right Missy, we can go just as soon as ya eat somethin'. I'm not about ta carry ya 'round the Labyrinth if ya pass out!"


	16. A Sinister Plot

**Disclaimer** \- Don't own it, as usual.

 

* * *

Chiara and Katie sat in the sun dappled forest, waiting for darkness and the rising moon to light the way. They had crossed the border just as the moon set on that first night, leaving the Goblin Kingdom behind. Chiara had breathed a sigh of relief, glad that she no longer had to worry so much about the possibility that someone would see them. Although it would have been unlikely that anyone would have guessed what they were doing, it was still better not to arouse suspicion. While they continued to avoid contact with the good folk who lived in the Wood Elven Kingdom, they were not as likely to attract as much attention here as they would have among the rather insular residents in Jareth's kingdom.

The last few days had been filled with surprisingly animated conversation as the unlikely pair got to know one another. When they were not sleeping in the darkest, most secluded glen that Chiara could find, she found Katie to be surprisingly good company. The nyxie was used to living a rather solitary life, having been captured by her master when she was barely old enough to fly. Since then, she had existed on the fringes of society, even out in the wilderness at times. Driven by the need for secrecy, she had always shunned the company of others. Now, she found herself enjoying the novelty of a traveling companion, even if she did have to keep up the charade that she worked for the Goblin King and was intent on helping Katie undertake a rescue mission.

They were traveling roughly parallel to the road that ran all the way from the Goblin Kingdom, straight up into Allanar itself. It was a large and well traveled highway, so Katie and Chiara kept some miles away from the road itself. This turned out to be a rather large bone of contention on their journey north. At first, Katie had wanted to travel on the road itself, pointing out that they would make far better time. She reasoned that, with the road to guide her, she could continue the journey while Chiara slept in the pocket of her backpack or coat. Chiara had managed to convince her that is was far too dangerous to attempt such a thing. She explained that mortals were not looked upon kindly in the Underground, particularly in this kingdom. To be caught wandering around, alone, would risk coming to the attention of people who would not behave as kindly toward Katie as the Goblin King had. Although Katie argued that she was more than capable of taking care of herself and staying out of sight, the nyxie insisted that it was better not to run the risk. Chaira was relieved when her new friend seemed to accept this explanation for the time being, although the nyxie had caught the barest hint of skepticism on the young womans face as she turned away. For now, it appeared that Katie was content to trust her, which made Chiara's job easier.

Overall, Chaira was enjoying her newest assignment. While she traveled with Katie, she was free from the oppressive loneliness that often made her feel like she was being watched. Although she knew that her master was looking in on her with regularity, she found that the constant companionship made the rest of the time far less stressful than it usually was.

While Chiara couldn't tell Katie about her master and the servitude that had become her life, she was able to be surprisingly honest with the open and affable young woman. She told her about her origins and related humorous tales of her time spent spying and traveling around the Underground. She was careful to avoid any mention of the darker aspects of her life. From a practical standpoint, she needed to keep Katie's trust in order to maintain the facade of helpful guide. But as the days went by, she found herself keeping things from Katie for another reason entirely. Deep in her heart, she wanted Katie's good opinion. Chiara began to fear that Katie would find out who she was and who she was actually working for. Not because her master would punish her for failing, for he surely would, but because she didn't want to lose the newfound friendship that was blossoming between her and the young woman.

It was the third day of their journey, and they were resting in a thick stand of pine trees when a racket started up less than a half mile away. The shouts of the teamsters driving a line of wagons could be clearly heard above the creaking and rattling of the wagons and the lowing of oxen. The patient beasts were slowly plodding along, pulling the long line of wagons toward a large manor house that was set across the valley from where they were hiding. The two travelers watched enviously as the wagon train stopped for a midday meal. The food that Katie had brought with her was quickly running out and Chiara had not had much time to forage for food for herself as they traveled. They had been on short rations for the last day. Very soon, it would become necessary for them to think about procuring more food.

Chiara worried about the prospect. The more she came to like her traveling companion, the more she worried about the effect eating anything from the Underground would have on her. From her time watching Sarah and Diona, Chiara had learned the fate of mortals who tasted Fae food. She didn't want her new friend to suffer the same way that Sarah had. When Katie finally ran out of the food that she had brought with her, she would have to choose between starvation now, or starvation later when she returned Above. So far, Chiara had managed to keep Katie moving too fast to consider supplementing the food she had brought with anything they could find or buy as they traveled. She would not be able to keep that up much longer.

The two travelers watched the teamsters finish their midday meal and resume their journey. Katie turned away and went back to sitting on the blanket that she had spread out on the carpet of pine needles that covered the ground around the trees. She pulled her backpack into her lap and began to rummage around inside of it.

"What are you doing?" Chiara asked her, fluttering over and dropping to the ground by the mortal woman's knee.

"I'm looking at what I have left to eat. There isn't much," she added. "I think we are going to have to do something about food really soon." Chaira shifted uncomfortably and made no reply. Instead, she fluttered up until she could look over the edge of the bag and into the compartment that Katie was currently searching. What she saw was not encouraging. Even Katie's water was running out.

Pulling out an apple and the last water bottle, Katie set the bag aside and bit into the apple, looking thoughtfully off into space. "Maybe we can buy some food from those wagon drivers, or at the manor house."

"I've told you, it's a bad idea for us to be seen. Besides, we don't know who owns that house or what kind of person they are."

"So? We would just be a couple of travelers on the road. Same as they are. Even if they won't sell us any food, I bet they can tell us where the closest market town is." Katie scowled at her and Chiara placed her hands on her hips defiantly as she glared right back.

Despite her resistance to the idea, Chiara knew that the manor house was their best bet for food in the next couple of days. There was a town that was not far from the manor, but she had no intention of getting anywhere near it. It was too risky. She briefly considered contacting her master and pleading with him to procure food for them from Above. She discarded the idea almost as quickly as she thought of it. Even if she could convince him to provide food, she was willing to bet that he would not take the time to ensure that it was from Above. What would he care if Katie got stuck Underground, or wasted away and died once she returned home? In his eyes, both of them were no more than useful tools. If they stopped being convenient tools, then he would discard them without hesitation.

While Chiara herself could travel between the worlds, she was too small to be able to carry anything larger than a plum back with her. She would never be able to bring enough Aboveground food back to make any difference. "Alright, when it gets closer to sunset, we can sneak up to the manor house and look around."

"Why not just walk up the lane like honest travelers?" Katie asked. "I don't understand why we always have to be sneaking around the wilderness."

Chiara sighed. This was getting repetitive. "Because you are mortal and anyone with magical talent will be able to tell that just by looking at you. Then, they will start to wonder what a mortal is doing, traveling the Underground with a nyxie. We can't afford to draw that much attention!"

"Maybe drawing a little bit of attention would be a good thing!" Katie retorted. "Maybe if Sarah hears that there is a mortal woman looking for her she will try to find me."

"It's far more likely that we will end up fleeing the area with a mob hot on our heels!" cried Chiara in exasperation. "Things are tense in the Underground right now. Unusual things make people nervous and nervous people do stupid things, like lynch the unfamiliar mortal that suddenly appears in their midst. The elders still tell tales of the horrors that your kind used to inflict on those who live in the Underground, especially out here in the countryside."

"What my kind used to do to yours? What about what your kind used to do to mine?" Katie snapped back.

Chaira sighed. "So there is blame on both sides, but you are proving my point. If there is still residual tension between mortals and magical beings, then it is a very bad idea for a mortal to go wandering around in the Underground. No mortal has visited the Underground, save to run the Labyrinth, in thousands of years."

Katie continued to glare at her, but Chiara was relieved when she made no reply. "Let's sneak down to the Manor when the sun starts to set. Right now, we should get some more rest." Her companion nodded curtly and Chiara sighed. She flew up to the abandoned nest she had found in the tree above Katie and settled in, waiting for dusk.

When the shadows began to lengthen, Chiara poked her head above the edge of the nest and looked around. As expected, the wagons had reached the manor house that afternoon. From the number and size of the wagons, it appeared as though a new resident was taking over that manor. Chiara couldn't remember who had lived there last, and she didn't know who was moving in now. However, she could see that several torches and bonfires had been lit and the unpacking was still going on. That could work both for and against them as they moved in to asses the situation and come up with a workable plan to acquire some food. If all went well, they would be able to get in, purloin some food, and get out again without anyone being the wiser. Chiara glanced down to see Katie just beginning to awaken from her own slumber and grimaced.  _If everything went well..._

Some time later, Chiara and Katie were slinking through the meadow that surrounded the manor house, keeping to the most shadowed areas they could find. To Chiara, it sounded as though Katie were deliberately stepping on every stick and rustling every bush and tuft of grass they passed. She glared at her human companion, but said nothing. The last thing she wanted to do was get into an argument this close to other people. Katie was already going to be unhappy when Chiara insisted on stealing what they needed rather than trying to barter or beg. She didn't need to add to the stress of the situation by taking her to task on her lack of woodcraft as well.

The closer they moved to the flickering light of the torches and bonfires, the slower and more carefully Chiara moved. Katie frequently figeted and huffed at what she perceived to be the unnecessary stealth, but Chiara continued to ignore her as she had before. If it had been unwise to risk attracting attention before, it was even more so now. Who knows what would happen if they were caught sneaking up to house like this.

Katie's impatience and dissatisfaction notwithstanding, they eventually made it close enough to be able to clearly observe the actions of the workers and hear their banter as they moved item after item from the wagons to the house. "Oye there, Jerry," hollered a burly elf. "Don't drop that box! Lord Leofrick said it was valuable."

Jerry grinned easily and swung the crate up onto his shoulder, holding it steady with one hand. He waved cheerfully to the elf who had yelled. "If you say so. Feels pretty light."

The elf called Jerry disappeared into the house and the elf who had yelled at him to be careful joined a team of three others who were hoisting what looked like a bed frame from the back of a wagon drawn close to the front door. All four of them were grunting and sweating under the weight of the solid wood when one of them lost his grip. Immediately, there was a chorus of shouts and curses directed at the clumsy elf. He was muttering apologies and getting a firmer grip on the side of the frame when a tall, lanky elf in fine, dark clothing appeared in the doorway.

At the sight of him, Chiara hissed in surprise. She dropped down to Katie's shoulder and gripped her hair while she leaned in close and whispered "Don't move."

Katie sank a little lower into the bushes they were hiding in and hissed "What?" Chiara made no reply. She only tugged gently on Katie's short hair and went back to watching the scene before them. Thankfully, Katie seemed to get the message, as she didn't press for further answers.

"Is there a problem here?"

All four of the workers paused and looked as though they didn't know whether to drop the bed and bow or hold on to the bed tighter for fear of dropping it. The hawk nosed elf in the door smiled slightly at their confusion and said, "I am not worried about you bowing and scraping to me, I will, however, be most displeased if you drop that bed frame and break it. I had that commissioned from one of the best furniture makers in Allanar."

The elf who had admonished Jerry to be careful nodded in understanding and spoke up "Don't worry, your Lordship, we'll be careful."

Leofrick narrowed his eyes and then nodded curtly. "See that you are." He turned and retreated back into the house, leaving the men holding the bed frame to sweat and strain as they moved slowly toward the front door.

After a few seconds, Chiara breathed a sigh of relief and fluttered into the air, once again giving Katie's hair a gentle tug before moving back away from the light and activity. When they were once again safely surrounded by the darkness and concealment of a patch of trees Katie asked, "What was that all about?"

"I know the man who owns that house," Chiara said in a shaky voice. "I don't know why he is here, or how he came to be a Lord, but he isn't someone you want to cross."

"I heard the workers call him Lord Leofrick, is that his real name? He looked a little sinister, even in those fancy clothes. Is he really that bad?"

"I've only seen him a few times, but I've heard plenty of stories. He is a notorious spy and assassin. One of the best. A single move could have alerted him to our presence in those bushes and that could very well have proven lethal. He has quite a reputation."

Katie looked visibly shaken by this information. "What do we do now?" Her shoulders slumped. "I can probably find water on the way, but I'm going to need food soon if you want me to be able to keep up with you. Is there a town nearby where we can buy food or something?"

"Katie, even if there was, do you have any gold or silver in that backpack? I've seen what mortals call money and it's worthless Underground." When Katie shook her head, Chiara continued, "Even if you could barter for the food we need, chances are that you wouldn't like the terms. A mortal roaming around the Realms can be very vulnerable."

Katie's eyes narrowed as Chiara spoke and she opened and closed her mouth several times, starting to talk but rethinking her response each time. When she didn't say anything, Chiara plowed on, "Even if we did manage to barter for some food, word that a mortal woman is wandering around in the Realms bartering for food is sure to get back to Leofrick and whoever he is working for.

"Who do you think he's working for?"

"I don't know! If I had to guess I'd say that he's probably working for the Wood Elven King, but I can't be sure. He could be working for anyone. Anyway, do you really want to take the chance of having our search cut short because the wrong person hears that you are Underground?"

Katie said nothing, but followed when Chiara fluttered into the air and made her way around the back of the manor house. The wagons that had already been emptied had been parked along the wall of an outbuilding and Chiara headed for them rather than for the kitchen door.

Once Katie was crouched in the shadows between the wagons, she hissed, "What are we doing?"

Chiara, who was peeking over the edge of the last wagon in the line turned slightly and whispered back, "Check all the wagons for any food. The teamsters should have left enough food here for their return trip. You also might want to see if you can find a canteen or something to hold more water than those bottles you've got."

"You mean steal!?" Katie's voice rose and Chiara frantically shushed her.

"Not so loud! You want them to hear us? Of course we are going to have to steal what we need, I thought I made that clear before. We can't risk being seen in the market towns and you have nothing to barter with."

Katie snuck up next to Chiara. "So you are saying that the only option we have is to beg or steal! You knew all along that there wasn't any other way for us to get what we needed, didn't you?" Her hissed exclamations were full of outrage and Chiara rolled her eyes.

"I tried to tell you," Chiara said. "Look, there isn't any other way. Either do this or you might as well give up and go home."

Chiara watched Katie consider her words, holding her breath while she waited. She was gambling on the fact that Katie was determined to find Sarah and would not want to give up so easily. If she had misjudged the mortal woman, then this could all be over right now.

"Fine!" Katie spat. "I'll look for food, but I'm not happy about this and we are going to have a little chat about how we will be doing things from now on!"

Just then, there was the sound of footsteps and the creaking of wheels as another wagon was brought around the side of the house. "Hide! Quick!" Chiara hissed as she dove for the shadows in the front of the wagon she hovered over. She watched Katie look around frantically for a moment, obviously not sure where to hide. Eventually, she slunk up into the bed of the nearest wagon. Chiara couldn't see her any longer but there was some rustling around for a moment and then silence from the wagon Katie hid in.

The teamsters pushed the newest wagon into place next to the one Chiara had secreted herself in. Then, with good natured jostling and joking they went back around the front of the main house. When she was sure they were out of sight, Chiara flew over to the wagon Katie had jumped into and looked over the side.

"Katie, they're gone." The mortal woman emerged from under a pile of coarse blankets, looking slightly shaken up by the close call. "Come on, we don't have much time. I heard them talking and they are almost finished, just a couple more wagons to unload."

Katie's mouth pressed into a thin line but she didn't say anything as she began to search the wagon she was sitting in. Chiara abandoned her watch and helped her. She wanted to get out of there as fast as she could. She zipped from wagon to wagon, not finding anything useful until she came to the last one. It was obviously their supply wagon and had been brought back here first.

"Over here!" she called quietly to Katie who was still searching the other wagons.

Katie hurried over. "You've found something?"

"This is their supply wagon. Let's take what we need and get the hell out of here before we get caught!"

Katie looked unhappy but grabbed an empty sack from the wagon and began to rummage through the supplies, stuffing well preserved and easily eaten foodstuffs into the sack as she did so. She even found a waterskin, which she slung over her shoulder. Chiara was fluttering impatiently behind her all the while, fearing that they wouldn't finish before the workers came to grab their blanket rolls and bed down for the night.

When the sack was as full as she could make it, Katie tied the end with some twine she found in the wagon and put it on the ground. She hesitated by the wagon for a moment, looking thoughtful.

"What are you doing?" Chiara asked, tugging urgently on her companion's sleeve, "Let's  _go_  already."

Still, Katie hesitated. Chiara was practically vibrating with nervous energy. She darted around, alternately watching for the return of the workers and tugging on various bits of Katie's clothing in the hopes of getting her to move. After a minute, Katie's hands went quickly to her ears, removing her earrings. Then she unhooked her simple golden charm necklace and pulled off a small ring that she wore. Piling the jewelry in plain sight on top of the empty sacks in the wagon, she turned away, hefting the sack of food.

"Let's go," she said shortly.

Chiara was about to grab the jewelry up again, not wanting to leave any evidence behind, when they heard what sounded like the entire group of workers heading in their direction. With a final look around, both Katie and Chiara headed quickly back out into concealment of the dark forest.

* * *

Jareth stood before the portal that would take him to the castle in Illetalos. He was dressed in his finest, ready to attend the ball that was being thrown to celebrate his betrothal to the Lady Belinda. While his clothing was typically opulent and stylish, his expression was anything but pleasant. He was not looking forward to this evening. He would be expected to escort his betrothed to and from the ball as well as remain by her side for the majority of the evening. While he knew next to nothing about the woman to whom he was promised, he was not particularly looking forward to getting to know her. What he knew of her father did not give him much hope that she would make him a comfortable wife.

Over the years, Jareth had rarely been in a position to encounter Lord Gethin, as the often giddy Fairy Queen and her court had always set his teeth on edge slightly. The few times that he had met the Chief Advisor to the Fairy Queen, Jareth had thought him to be slightly obsequious, and very concerned about his standing and appearance at Court. Although Gethin tended to avoid the rumor mill, the few things that Jareth had been able to glean about his future father-in-law painted him as a typical sycophant coutier, willing to throw even his family to the wolves if it suited his purposes. It was a well known fact that Gethin had demanded absolute obedience from his late wife, and Jareth presumed that he had done the same with his daughter.

If he hadn't seen the hard look in Belinda's eyes when he was presented to her, Jareth would have expected her to be nothing more than a meek and spiritless girl. As it was, he wasn't sure if she would be willful and spoiled, or if she had simply not wanted this betrothal any more than he had. In an attempt to get to know her a little better, Jareth had written her several small notes, to which she had sent very proper and insipid replies.

Jareth sighed and straightened his jacket before moving through the portal. Such a wife would be more of a hindrance to him than anything else. He expected that she would require constant attention and care in order to remain happy. The chances that she would be able to undertake the task of actually ruling by his side were slim. That thought sent a wave of depression through him. He had always envisioned a relationship much like the ones his parent's shared. Cieran and Rhiannon had always been a team, a united pair, that tackled any obstacle together. Helping and supporting each other through anything. The thought that he might not ever have that kind of relationship was distressing.

He stepped out into the arrival hall in the Fairy Queen's castle in Illetalos, endeavoring to put his foul mood behind him. He was immediately met by Lord Gething and his daughter, both already dressed for the ball.

"Ah, Your Majesty!" Lord Gethin stepped forward and bowed, nudging his daughter to do the same. "We are honored that you have been able to get away from your duties in the Labyrinth in order to attend what I hope will be the first of many celebrations in honor of your betrothal to my daughter."

Jareth bowed slightly, acknowledging the greeting but no more. "Thank you, Lord Gethin. I am surprised that you would meet me here in the arrival hall. I had thought that the Lady would have required more time in order to be as lovely as she is."

Lady Belinda cast her eyes down to the ground at this indirect compliment, but made no reply. Jareth raised an eyebrow but made no further comments as he stepped forward and offered his arm to his betrothed. She smiled slightly and took his arm, holding herself stiff and erect as they moved down the hallway toward the ballroom. Neither said anything, but Lord Gethin seemed more than willing to fill in the silence. He chattered on about various matters until they reached the doors of the ballroom and then excused himself. He entered the ballroom first while Jareth and Belinda, as the guests of honor, would wait until everyone else was present before entering.

As soon as her father was out of the room, Belinda dropped his arm and moved away from him. She sat on one of the chairs along the wall and began to study the floor with what looked like intense interest. Jareth was unused to such behavior. Generally women did their best to charm him when they found themselves alone in his presence. Her behavior was certainly unusual and it put him on edge.

The silence between them stretched out uncomfortably. Jareth tried several topics of conversation without success. Eventually he gave up and they waited in silence until they were called on to make their entrance.

They stood at the top of the grand staircase leading into the ballroom. Belinda once again held herself stiff and stood as far away from his side as she could manage without appearing discourteous and awkward. Jareth drew her closer as their names and titles were announced. He moved easily as they started down the stairs. Leaning slightly closer to her he whispered, "We may not have wanted this, my lady, but we must at least play the game for the benefit of our elders. I am sorry if you are unhappy about all this."

Without looking away from the sea of faces awaiting them at the bottom of the stairs, she whispered back, "Whatever makes you think that?"

He did not have time to reply as they reached the bottom of the stairs and bowed before the assemblage. Jareth turned to face her and bowed over her hand, placing a chaste kiss on her wrist as he did so. He then led her out onto the dance floor to open the ball. He pulled her closer than was strictly necessary, just to see how she would react. He was surprised when she didn't seem to react at all. It was as if she wasn't really all there.

As the music started and he led her through the first few steps of the dance, he pondered how to reply to her earlier comment. He was beginning to be extremely frustrated. He was trying his best to court her, but her seeming lack of interest was a serious stumbling block.

He looked down and smiled at the woman he was dancing closely with. For a moment, he saw, not Belinda, but Sarah, as she had looked during the one time he'd had the pleasure of dancing with her. He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath, his dancing never faltering despite the tricks his mind was playing on him. When he opened his eyes, he once again saw Belinda before him. "You dance well," he told her, trying to ground himself in the reality of the here and now.

She smiled slightly. "Thank you, my lord."

He sighed, "We are betrothed, you may feel free to call me Jareth."

Her face continued to betray no emotion as she replied, "If you prefer."

"I do," he said shortly. He softened his tone to ask, "Are you truly so unhappy at the prospect of marrying me?"

She looked up, and he finally saw some emotion on her face. She looked both afraid and slightly horrified, although he doubted that anyone else in the room would have noticed, so small were the changes to her expression. "Of course not, Jareth. It is a good match. I am honored to be chosen."

Jareth nearly groaned. The woman couldn't even give him an honest answer. Even when Sarah had been no more than a girl, she had been far more direct and engaging than this woman he was now expected to marry. He tried again, "I'm perfectly serious, if you are unhappy then we need not continue this betrothal."

Her fear and horror turned to slight irritation. "Of course I want to marry you. Perhaps it is you who do not wish to marry me?"

Jareth wished he had bitten his tongue. It was true that he had no wish to marry her, but he did not want to cause her to be unhappy either. "I did not mean to imply that. I would not have agreed to this arrangement if I did not wish to marry you."

She looked somewhat mollified by his answer and looked off over his shoulder, effectively ending the conversation for the moment. With subtle glances, he watched her expressions as they danced, hoping to learn more about her. He had to commend her on her self control. Belinda kept her face a serene mask, letting the world see nothing of what she was feeling. Once more, thoughts of Sarah intruded and he could not help but smile as he remembered how Sarah's every emotion was displayed openly on her face. Unlike this cold woman, Sarah was all fire, and very little passed through her mind that was not openly displayed on her face.

Despite the fact that he kept sternly reprimanding himself for thinking of Sarah, Jareth spent the rest of the dance with memories of her playing in his mind.

* * *

The first dance ended and Jareth led Belinda off the dance floor to the polite applause of the assemblage. Gethin had been watching the couple narrowly the entire time. Although there was some conversation between them, they appeared very stiff and proper. He was not particularly pleased with the way Belinda kept putting distance between herself and the Goblin King.

He watched them interact, sipping drinks that the servants were discreetly passing. Gethin stood next to a group of ladies, notorious gossips all, and listened to their remarks.

"How serious Jareth looks," said one, "I heard he was working himself to the bone, making repairs to the Labyrinth."

"I heard that as well, it is so nice that he was able to be here tonight."

"Belinda looks bored, perhaps she and Jareth should sneak off together somewhere, eh?" That remark came from behind him, and Gethin turned to see a group of middle aged gentlemen, all old enough to have become bored with their wives. Most had taken to looking for excitement elsewhere. The one who spoke had his back to him, but Gethin saw the faces of the others as they recognized him. Most bowed and moved away in embarrassment. He turned his attention back to the ladies that he had been listening to initially in time to hear another comment.

"They look well together, but they don't seem to be overly happy."

He narrowed his eyes. The gossips were right. While he knew that Belinda was displeased with the path he had set her on, she was supposed to be making Jareth happy. It looked as though she wasn't even trying. He continued watching them, becoming more and more angry at his daughter as the evening wore on. By the time the ball was coming to a close, various couples were sneaking off together to continue their own private celebrations in other parts of the building. Belinda was still holding herself aloof and Jareth showed no indication that he was in any way attracted to his future bride.

Putting on a jovial expression, Gethin approached the couple. "Well, I hope that you two have enjoyed yourselves and gotten better acquainted."

"It has been a lovely evening," Jareth said. "However, I think it is time for us to leave. The lady looks fatigued, and I have business to attend to early tomorrow."

Gethins smile became strained. "Yes, we all know how very busy you are repairing the Labyrinth. I heard you were also searching for that missing mortal, what was her name? Sarah? Did she really beat the Labyrinth." He watched Jareth narrowly as he spoke.

Jareth smiled slightly, but otherwise seemed unfazed by the prying questions of his future father-in-law. "She did. I was shocked."

"How interesting," Gethin said. Their group was making their way to the arrival hall to bid Jareth farewell. Belinda was once more walking sedately at Jareth's side, although she had declined his arm when he offered it. "It has been many years since there has been a Champion of the Labyrinth. No one else has managed to find their way through the Labyrinth but you, isn't that right?"

Jareth looked slightly uncomfortable. "Thats correct, I beat the Labyrinth when I took my throne. I could not have become the Goblin King if I had not done so."

They had reached the door to the arrival hall and Gethin paused. "Yes, the first Goblin King in centuries. Well, I will leave the two of you alone to say your farewells. Belinda, please see me before you retire." With that, he bowed and left them. As soon as he turned the corner, he produced a crystal to watch their interaction. Jareth bowed over her hand once more and Belinda curtseyed. Without any further exchanges, Jareth entered the arrival hall, leaving Belinda standing there alone.

With a growl, Gethin dismissed the crystal. Belinda was going to have to do better than that. The girl had a duty to perform and, by the Fates, she would do it. He dropped another crystal on the ground and transported himself to his private chambers to await the arrival of his daughter.

* * *

Belinda knocked timidly on the door to her father's study. He called out for her to enter and she did so, stopping just inside the door.

"Get in here and close the damn door," he commanded.

She obeyed and moved further into the room. Although her face was serene, her heart was beating a mile a minute. She feared what her father might have to say to her. From the looks that he had been shooting her all evening, she assumed that he was not about to compliment her on a job well done. She was correct.

Gethin stood and moved over to stir the fire in the massive fireplace. Despite the late hour, he showed no signs of retiring. Belinda often wondered if he slept at all. Every light in the room was burning and there were papers scattered across his black desk, looking like drifts of snow against the dark wood.

"I am not pleased with the manner in which you have chosen to conduct yourself when in the presence of the Crown Prince," he stated bluntly.

She swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, father."

He waved her apology away in irritation. Huffing as he did so. When he spoke again, he enunciated every single word as though she were a small, and particularly slow, child. "You have one single job." Belinda felt her ire rising but she kept her face devoid of emotion and bit her tongue. She knew the consequences of disobedience. "You are to capture Jareth's attention, or even better, his heart. Then you will bear him a child as quickly as possible."

"But, Father," she began, only to have him cut her off sharply.

"Yes, yes, I know that he is not to your taste." His face twisted in a grimace as he eyed her. "However, you have been chosen to complete this task for us. Failure is not an option. If I have to remind you of this again, then I will see to it that your... playmates... are punished for your missteps."

Belinda's eyes widened and her mouth fell open at her father's threat. "You wouldn't!"

"Try me." His voice was as cold as the winter wind and Belinda clenched her hands in front of her as she stood pinned under his gaze.

"You are willing to tie me forever to this…  _man_ , even if it is against my will, aren't you?" Although she had known this to be that case ever since he had told her she was to wed the Crown Prince someday, she had not really believed he would make her do it. Her own inclinations certainly made Jareth a most ineligible match. He heart was already given to another.

"Oh don't be so dramatic. It won't be forever. You are only required to produce a single male heir. After that we will have Jareth killed. But a child of royal blood is absolutely essential for our future plans to be successful." He approached her and laid a hand on her cheek in a parody of paternal affection.

"And then I will be free to live as I choose?"

He removed his hand and looked at her sharply. "Within reason. You will still have a role to play. Once we place your child on the throne, you will be the Queen mother. I expect that you will keep your assignations private. However, I will take over most of the day to day tasks involved in ruling for the young Prince."

"And you promise that I will only be saddled with Jareth until I bear him a child?"

"A  _male_  heir, Belinda. A girl is no good for our purposes."

She crossed her arms defiantly. "Why a male heir? Women can rule just as well. What if I cannot bear a son?"

Gethin shrugged and turned away from her. "Then you and any female offspring you bear will be replaced. A male heir is necessary. You need not know anything further, you need only obey." His dismissive tone chilled her to the bone and promised that she would regret it, should she fail.

"Very well, Father. I will attempt to be more… accommodating. I will get him to marry me as soon as may be, then I will bear him an heir."

Gethin grunted. "You are to use any means necessary to entice Jareth to the altar.  _Any_  means, Belinda. Rest assured that I will not be heard to complain if you should fall pregnant before the wedding should take place."

Belinda blanched but nodded her acceptance of her father's instructions. Inside, she was seething that he should stoop so low as to whore her out to gain his own objectives. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she stood to gain much in this arrangement as well. She had but to put up with Jareth for a short while. Her mind began to churn. Perhaps some reading in the library was in order. There had to be a way to ensure that she would become pregnant as quickly as possible. She would also search for a way to assure the sex of the child.

"May I retire, Father?"

Without looking up from the paperwork that he had busied himself with he waved his hand and she left, anxious to be out of his presence and already thinking of how to get through this ordeal as quickly as possible.

* * *

_The thunder of hooves approached and Sarah huddled under her green cloak, hoping that the riders would miss her entirely in the tall grass. The hood she had raised to hide her hair effectively blocked her peripheral vision, but Sarah didn't dare move. She could feel the vibration of each hoof striking the ground as the unknown riders approached, and then stopped._

_"Get up," a stern, heavily accented voice ordered. Cringing slightly, Sarah obeyed, shrinking back into her hood as she came face to face with the group of riders that had found her. No, her confused mind amended as she noted the creatures before her, not riders. Centaurs._

_Sarah found herself surrounded by a group of five centaurs. Each of them had a bow drawn, arrows nocked and pointed directly at her. "Who are you? What are you doing in our land?"_

_Sarah tried to force words past her suddenly parched lips but found that she could not do so. Instead, she stared mutely at the creatures before her. Standing eighteen hands high, plus roughly three feet of torso, the centaur before her towered over her small frame. His muscular arms and shoulders held his bow with obvious experience and competency. His ears were loaded with rings that ran the length of the outer shell. Had she been standing closer to him, Sarah's head might have been level with his withers, which were the same color as the coarse hair on his head. He wore it long and tightly braided, secured at the end with a leather thong._

_"Well?" he barked, his deep voice sending shivers down Sarah's spine. "Speak, or I'll order them to shoot." He gestured around at the rest of the centaurs. Sarah had to concentrate to understand what he was saying through his thick accent. If she'd been pressed to name a place Above where the accent originated, Sarah would have guessed somewhere in eastern Europe._

_Hesitantly, Sarah reached up and pushed back her cloak. Her movements were watched closely by her captors and the action obviously attracted some attention. As the hood fell back, the eyes of the centaur that had spoken grew slightly wider and he went from looking fierce and angry, to thoughtful and wary. He lowered his bow and Sarah was relieved to see the bows of the others drop as well. Taut strings were slackened and the sharp arrows pointed toward the ground._

_"You will come with me." The centaur who had spoken wheeled around and began to canter toward the large group that was beginning to assemble in a rather large dale between the rolling hills of the plains. The others surrounded her, hurrying her along until she was practically jogging trying to keep up with them. They headed for a large, brightly painted caravan in the center of the growing encampment._

Smiling at the memories, Sarah looked around her tent as she lounged on her pile of cushions, eating her morning meal. Brightly colored pillows and rugs were scattered throughout the interior and glowing braziers warmed the air, keeping the autumn chill at bay. She could hardly believe the difference a few weeks could make. The first time she had walked through this camp she had been an outsider, scared and alone.

_Sarah stumbled a little as they entered the camp. She could feel eyes watching her from all around, despite the screen of horse like bodies that surrounded her. All around her, the residents of the camp paused in their tasks to watch her go by. The children stood with their mouths agape, toys hanging idly from their hands. Sarah wondered if any of them had ever seen a human before._

_She was hustled into a half erected tent that was anchored to the side of the caravan. As her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light inside, the leader of the centaurs who had captured her knelt nimbly down to speak into the ear of an exceptionally old centaur. The elder was resting on a mound of cushions in the center of the open tent. Sarah was unable to catch anything that passed between them, but the eyes of the old one darted toward her and his eyebrows rose alarmingly as he listened to what the younger centaur had to say._

_When the younger one finished speaking, the old centaur waved a hand to dismiss him and the rest. For over a minute, he and Sarah faced one another, saying nothing. Sarah was just beginning to wonder if he would speak at all when he said, "Welcome, young one. My scouts say that you are a priestess, but the priestesses of the Croí Foinse have been gone for centuries. I think that there is more to your story than meets the eye. Sit." He gestured toward a second pile of cushions. His tone indicated that he would not take no for an answer. However, his voice was not unkind and Sarah took hope from that._

_She hesitated for a moment before gathering her cloak around her and sitting. "My name is Sarah…"_

That was how she had made the acquaintance of Elder Samoth. As they spoke, that first night, he gradually drew out her story. Sarah found herself telling the kind old centaur about everything that had happened since she had wished her baby brother away. She even told him about her time in the hospital. The only topic she refused to touch on was Jareth. About him, she gave as little information as possible, although she could hardly keep him out of the narrative altogether.

Rather than treating her like an outsider, Samoth had treated her like a member of the clan from the start, offering her food and drink as well as the hospitality of the camp for as long as she cared to stay. He had also done his best to answer any questions she had. It was through him that she had come to learn Diona's true identity and the meaning of the pin that secured her cloak around her throat. She was grateful to Diona for having the foresight to give her such a gift. Samoth had told her that it was the pin alone that had stayed the hand of the scouts that had found her. Generally, the only outsiders they saw were raiders, here to steal their herds and kill anyone found roaming alone. She had been in more danger than he knew when they found her.

Samoth didn't push for any more information than she was willing to give, at least on that first afternoon. He had simply allowed her to speak, offering neither comment nor judgment. In a way, it was a relief to finally be able to tell someone everything. When she had finished speaking, Sarah felt unburdened, as though she had put down a large weight that she had been carrying for so long she was no longer even aware that she did so. Night had fallen as they conversed, and Sarah sat, blinking owlishly at her host for several minutes before he suggested that she retire. Samoth produced several blankets and urged Sarah to spend the night where she was. Tomorrow, he had told her, was soon enough to see to finding her a place of her own.

As Sarah came to know the Elder, she quickly grew to respect him and she now looked on him with great affection. In turn, he treated her like a beloved granddaughter, although Sarah sometimes caught him eyeing her with a thoughtful expression. Samoth had given orders that that the rest of the clan treat her with all the respect due a member of his family. Although every courtesy was paid to her and many were superficially friendly, most of the clan had held themselves aloof. Samoth told her that it was just a product of the times in which they lived. Outsiders were rare and looked upon with suspicion. He assured her that they would eventually come to accept her presence among them without hesitation.

After several days, Sarah learned to understand their sometimes heavily accented speech and she began to expand her circle of acquaintances in the clan. Although progress was slow and no one specifically sought her out to speak to her. During those first days, Sarah had spent the majority of her time with Elder Samoth. Sarah remembered the day that had changed.

_She had been wandering along the edge of the camp with Samoth. He was so old that his coat and hair had long since turned white. While he could no longer run with the clan, traveling in the large caravan that Sarah had since come to learn was his, he was not yet completely infirm and enjoyed walking through the camp with her. The sun was warm that day, but the wind that blew from the north was chilly, and Samoth remarked that it would not be long before the first snows began to fall in the mountains of the dwarven kingdom. He had been teaching Sarah much about the Underground and Sarah now knew far more about the world she found herself in than she had before. They continued to discuss the dwarven kingdom as they meandered lazily along the outskirts of the camp._

_Sarah's geography lesson was interrupted by shouts and laughter up ahead. Topping a small rise, Sarah saw a group of younger centaurs at weapons practice. Sarah and Samoth watched for several minutes as groups of them sparred and practiced their archery. Looking around, Sarah asked a question that had been bothering her since the first day. "Samoth, there aren't any trees here, where does the wood for the weapons come from?"_

_The elder chuckled. "To the north, along the edge of the river that separates our grasslands from the kingdom of Avalon, there are trees. Perhaps not enough to be called a forest, but enough to supply us with the wood for our weapons and caravans. We manage the area very carefully to avoid overharvesting. Because wood is so rare, it is highly prized among the clans and the weapons of the warriors are cared for diligently."_

_Sarah nodded and watched in fascination as flight after flight of arrows found their marks in the targets that had been set up across the field from where the archers were standing. "Would you like to try?" he asked, watching her with amusement in his kind brown eyes._

_"Can I? I mean, will they let me?"_

_He gestured wordlessly and then started down the hill. Before they were even halfway down the short slope, the greetings came flying in from all over the practice field and all activity stopped at the approach of Sarah and the Elder. When they reached the bottom of the hill, Samoth called out to a female centaur who trotted over to meet them._

_"Adelina, have you met Sarah?" he asked, bumping Sarah forward with his flank as she hung back slightly, feeling very small in the crowd of tall centaurs._

_The young female shook her head, her coppery hair flashing in the sun. "No I haven't. Nice to meet you, Sarah." Her coat was the same coppery red color as her hair. Sarah longed to run her hand over it. She knew better than to do that, though. Samoth had warned her that it was considered very impolite to treat a centaur like a horse._

_"Sarah was wondering if she could give the bows a try," Samoth informed Adelina._

_Adelina grinned at Sarah, looking her over carefully. "I'm not sure we have a bow that you can actually draw, but you are welcome to try."_

_Sarah scowled, but decided to say nothing. It was true that she still looked scrawny, despite the vast improvement in her health since she came back Underground. She followed Adelina over to the line where several other archers were standing. As one, they nocked their arrows, raised their bows, drew, and fired. Sarah couldn't help but be impressed. She had always been interested in archery but had never tried it. Her father had always told her that she should pursue more "feminine" activities. As a result, Sarah had spent years taking dance and music lessons in addition to pursuing her theatre dreams. Sometimes, though, she had snuck away to watch the archery club practice at the local YMCA._

_Once Adelina had located a bow that she thought Sarah would be able to draw, she handed it to her and explained the procedure. Sarah listened carefully and then stepped up to the line. Immediately, all other activity ceased as everyone fixed their attention on the small human woman._

_As Sarah drew the bow and sighted down the length of the arrow, she wondered if she could even reach the target. The much taller centaurs obviously had a much longer range than she did. She considered asking to move closer, but a few snickers from the crowd convinced her that it would not be a good idea. She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and released the arrow._

_To the shock of everyone present, including Sarah, the arrow buried itself in the target she had been aiming for. It was not a perfect shot. She had hit one of the outer rings. But then, no one had actually thought she would even be able to hit the target, not even Sarah herself._

As though that one arrow had broken the ice for her, Sarah suddenly found herself being treated as though she had always been a member of the clan. As the story spread, so too did the feeling of acceptance. There were still a few who were standoffish, but the majority of the clan would now wave and invite her to join them any time she appeared. When she had asked Samoth about it, he told her that, because the bow was their main weapon, showing skill with one was the surest path to acceptance among the clans, regardless of race.

Finding that she enjoyed the activity, and wanting to earn further acceptance in this new society, Sarah began to join Adelina and the others in daily weapons practice. She began learning to use a staff and knife as well as a bow. She was far better with a bow than she was at staff fighting. Despite her many mistakes, Adelina assured her that she was picking it up much quicker than beginners usually did. The female centaur had once asked her if she was sure she had never had any training before. When Sarah had laughed and told her no, Adelina looked at her seriously and said, "If you haven't had any training then you are what we would call  _nadaný_ , or gifted."

Sarah had scoffed at the idea, but was secretly pleased at the notion that she was better than the average student when it came to weapons. She found that her early dance classes came in handy, making her movements far more graceful than some of the other beginners who trained with her.

She grinned as she popped the last bite of flatbread into her mouth, thinking of how much her father would have been against the training she was now reveling in. Her thoughts were interrupted by a scratching sound on the the cloth side of her tent.

"Yes?" Sarah called out.

Adelina popped her head in through the loose flap and smiled at her. "Are you coming? It's time for me to expand your knowledge!"

Sarah laughed. "More like time for you to give me several fresh bruises," she remarked ruefully, rubbing her rear end where she knew a large bruise had formed, courtesy of the tip of her friends staff striking her nether regions the previous day. Despite the pain, Sarah was enjoying every minute of it, a fact that Adelina was fully aware of.

"Oh, you love it, you masochist," Adelina teased before withdrawing her head. Sarah followed her quickly and the two set off across the camp, heading for the practice fields. They walked in companionable silence, waving to those who greeted them but not stopping to chat.

As the silence between them lengthened, Sarah began to get the impression that there was something on her centaur friends mind. She was just on the verge of demanding that Adelina spill the beans when the redhead spoke. "We will be moving on soon."

"Really?" Sarah said. "Where are we going?"

Adelina stopped dead in her tracks, a look of joy spreading over her face. "You are coming with us? We weren't sure if you would leave when it came time for us to move on. We haven't stayed in one place this long in months and we assumed that it was because you were here."

"Why would I leave?" Sarah cocked her head, puzzled by the assumption. She didn't think that she had ever said anything about leaving, not even to Elder Samoth, although she still thought about returning Above. Somehow, she had always put off even mentioning it. There would be plenty of time to consider returning. For the time being, she was content to remain with the centaurs. She was happy here.

"Elder Samoth says that your destiny lies elsewhere, and you will not stay with us forever." Adelina looked sad for a moment and then laughed at the expression on Sarah's face. "Didn't you know he was the Chief Shaman?" she asked.

"I guess it never came up," Sarah muttered. "I just assumed he was a respected Elder and leader. I didn't know he had any other titles. What it is about the old people in the Underground and keeping secrets!"

Adelina laughed at Sarah's frustration. "I doubt that he meant to keep it a secret, he probably just never thought to tell you. It is a well known fact. He has been Chief Shaman for as long as any of us have been alive. They reached the top of the hill that separated the camp from the training area and started down the other side. As they joined the rest of the young centaurs, Sarah resolved to have a chat with her elderly friend about this "destiny" very soon.


	17. An Old Story

**Disclaimer**  - I own none of the original characters and I do not profit from this story in any way, unless one counts the nice things some of my wonderful readers have said. In which case, I suppose I'm in trouble!

A/N - Thanks to my littlest sister for editing for me. Also... everybody give her a big shout out because she is now a college grad! Wohoo!

So I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Cheers!

* * *

The sun was beginning to set and the wind was starting to pick up, chilling the air as Sarah and the young centaurs she trained with headed back to camp. She had several new bruises but was very proud of herself nonetheless. Today, for the first time, she had managed to hit the center of the target. Her archery was definitely improving, even if Adelina and the others could still beat her with staff and knife in under two minutes.

Sarah trudged up the hill, slightly behind the others. As she climbed, she began to feel a bit light headed but she brushed it off, attributing the feeling to having gone too long without eating. She had eaten only a small noon meal before going back to her archery, her increasing skill making her too excited to pay attention to anything else.

At the top of the hill, she was met by a youngster with a message. Elder Samoth invited her to dine in his tent that evening. Sarah started to reply, but faltered when her vision began to turn dark. She swayed slightly and dropped to her knees. The young centaur quickly called for help and Adelina turned back at his call.

She galloped up, calling Sarah's name as she did so. Standing by Sarah's side uncertainly, the centaur girl stamped her hooves in anxiety. Sarah braced her hands against the ground and shook her head to clear it before rising to her feet once again. "It's all right," she hastened to assure the growing crowd around her. "I should have eaten more today, is all."

Murmuring and shaking their heads, the crowd began to disperse. Only Adelina remained by Sarah's side. When Sarah smiled and reiterated her assurances of health, Adelina shook her head. "No, I will stay and walk with you. I want to make sure that you get back to your tent safely."

Sarah sighed but brightened up when Adelina began complimenting her on her progress as they made their way through the camp. They were deep in discussions about the need for Sarah to begin an exercise regimen to build more muscle when they reached her tent.

"Are you sure you will be alright on your own?" Adelina asked.

Sarah scoffed. "Of course! I should have remembered what not eating properly does to someone. I'll be fine. I am just going to clean up and then spend the evening with Elder Samoth."

Adelina looked unconvinced but nodded. "If you are sure you will be alright, then I need to get cleaned up for my own evening meal. I'll see you at practice tomorrow?"

Sarah nodded in turn and the two bid each other farewell. Sarah entered her tent and headed toward the pitcher and basin that sat on a small table. Someone had apparently been through to collect the water she had used to wash up this morning and had filled the pitcher with fresh water. Sarah smiled as she looked around at the cloth walls of her temporary home. Despite the lack of indoor plumbing, she was growing accustomed to living in a tent. She did miss being able to have a luxurious soak in a hot bath though. Her training made her sore in a multitude of places. _I swear I'd give up an arm for a good soak right now,_  she thought.

She washed her face and as much of her body as she could with the water in the pitcher. When she was done, the water in the basin was very dirty. Sarah sighed. She still smelled like horse, but that was unavoidable when one lived with centaurs. At least her hosts were not likely to complain!

Sarah looked toward the far side of the tent, wondering which of her relatively few outfits she should change into. What she saw sitting on top of the simple woven baskets that held her clothing took her breath away and drove all thoughts of clothing out of her head.

She quickly crossed the distance and dropped to her knees next to the baskets with a low cry of delight. Nestled on top of her clothing was a finely made recurve bow. She knew immediately that it must have been a gift from Samoth and she was overwhelmed at his generosity. Surely, such a beautifully made bow was a great treasure among the clans! She reached out and reverently lifted the weapon to examine it in more detail.

Sarah ran her hands over the satiny smooth finish, noting the red streaks that ran through the dark brown wood. From the curve of the limbs as they arced gracefully away from the grip, to the supple and well stretched gut twine that served as a bowstring, the entire weapon was a work of art. The grip itself was inlaid with what looked like well polished bone and the same material capped each limb. Rising from her knees, she smoothly drew the bow as far as she could. To her consternation, she was only able to draw the string slightly over halfway back before her arm trembled and she had to stop. Despite her failure to draw the bow and the lightheadedness brought on by her efforts, she was grinning. Sarah was sure that it would not take her long to develop the necessary strength to draw and fire this beautiful weapon. Setting it carefully aside, she changed her clothing and made her way out of her tent.

Her tent was located very close to the center of the camp, something she had since learned was an honor given to only those of the highest rank within the clan. The closer one pitched ones tent to the center, the higher one's social status among the centaurs. Samoth had decreed her to be a member of his family and Sarah had not understood at first what that meant. Now, knowing that he was the Chief Shaman of the centaurs, she began to get an inkling of just how important that made him, and by extension, her. As a result of his pseudo-adoption of Sarah, her personal tent was only a short stroll from Samoth's own.

It did not take long for her to cover the distance between the two dwellings. Sarah scratched on the hide and entered when Samoth called out for her to do so. The Elder smiled when he saw the look on her face. "I take it that you are pleased with the gift?"

Sarah grin widened and she sat across the low table from the old centaur, who was already reclining on his massive pile of cushions. "It's perfect! Thank you! I've never seen such a beautiful bow. The bowyer must have been a true artist!"

Samoth nodded. "He was indeed. My father made that bow. He cut the wood for it on the day I was born and presented it to me when I came of age."

"It was yours?" Sarah gasped and her face clouded. "I can't take something so special. It was made for you. I don't feel right about taking a family heirloom. Won't your children and grandchildren want it?"

The old centaur chuckled and waved away her objections. "Nonsense, my dear. I am no longer able to use it, and my children and grandchildren do not lack for well made weapons. Besides, I have known for some time that it was meant to be placed in your hands." He uncovered their evening meal, and the scent of the spicy meat slivers and vegetables wafted through the tent, reminding Sarah of how little she had eaten that day.

Sarah sat on a cushion, across the low table from the centaur Elder. From sharing her meals with the younger centaurs, Sarah knew that most of them ate their meals picnic style, on blankets spread on the ground. The Elder's wooden table was an exception, one that Sarah was sure stemmed more from his occasional entertaining of outsiders than it did from his advanced age. Reaching for her food, she deftly piled the meat and vegetable mixture on her flatbread and added a generous drizzle of a dairy product that was something of a cross between yogurt and sour cream. It had the taste of Aboveground sour cream, but the consistency of very thin yogurt. Like most of the centaurs food, it came from the vast herds of cattle they managed. Since arriving, Sarah had developed a taste for it. She knew that, as the meal ended, a sweeter, slightly thicker version would be offered, along with fruit, as a dessert.

As she prepared to eat she asked, "What do you mean when you say you have known for some time it was meant to be mine?"

Samoth picked up a horn cup full of kefir and took a sip before answering. His brows furrowed and Sarah could tell that he was struggling to frame an answer that she would accept. "Sarah, rarely have I come across an individual who has been marked by the Fates in such an obvious way." He looked at her seriously and placed his cup back on the table. "You are destined for greater things in this life than you can imagine."

Sarah looked at him skeptically. Samoth had never spoken of her future before. Most of their discussions since the night she had arrived had been about the Underground, it's various races and their history. The Elder had seemed to instinctively know that Sarah had not been ready to discuss the future and had instead, focused on the past, providing useful instruction about the world she now lived in. "I don't believe in destiny," she told him, drily. Despite her words, her heart sped up and her chest felt tight, as though the air in the tent had suddenly grown heavier.

Her companion chuckled. "Of course not. Mortals have spent many centuries divorcing themselves from such things. However, that doesn't mean that those things don't still exist. You believe in magic, don't you?"

"Yes." Sarah scowled as she said it. As much as she might sometimes want to close her eyes and refuse to see it, she couldn't deny that magic existed. She hadn't been able to do that since she accidentally wished her baby brother away. The silence lengthened and Sarah began to get uncomfortable. Samoth said nothing, waiting for her to speak. Finally, she couldn't keep it in any longer and the words practically exploded out of her.

"Ever since I returned, everyone has been treating me as though I'm super important: Diona, Naida, and now you! But I'm not! I'm just a girl who had the misfortune to accidentally wish away a baby." Sarah scowled. "I… I'm not… I don't have a destiny and I have no desire to be what everyone wants me to be!"

"And what is it that you think they all want you to be?" he asked.

"I don't know!" Sarah exclaimed. She thumped the cup that she had begun to raise back on the table without taking a drink. "I just feel like everyone is making plans that include me, without bothering to ask me what I want."

"What do you want?" Samoth cocked his head slightly as he peered closely at her.

Sarah opened her mouth to say that she just wanted to go home and then closed it again with a snap. Was that really what she wanted? She raised her rolled flatbread to her mouth and took a bite, her expression thoughtful. When she first arrived in the grasslands she wouldn't have hesitated. Now that she had put some distance between herself and the events that had taken place in the Goblin Kingdom, Sarah wasn't so sure. She couldn't deny that she felt so much more alive here, Underground, than she had ever felt in her own world. Despite everything that had happened to her since her return, she felt as though her life Above was largely irrelevant. She still missed her little brother, but realistically, there wasn't anyone else, except maybe a few casual friends, like Katie, that she was leaving behind. She had no job, no house, no real responsibilities… Would it truly be so terrible to start a new life here? Sarah chewed her food as she thought about it. The more she thought about it, the more attractive that prospect became.

Sarah swallowed and looked across the table to find Elder Samoth watching her. "I think," she said slowly, picking the last pieces of flatbread on her plate apart with her fingers,. "That I could be happy here, but I don't want to be anyone's ruler, or savior. I just want to be me, a normal person. I'm not special, even if I am supposed to be this... Airíoch. I'm not cut out for such a role. In fact, I am more damaged than most people."

Samoth still said nothing. He simply gazed at her and Sarah began to squirm uncomfortably under his knowing gaze. She stared down at the mess she was making of the remains of her meal and tried to avoid his eyes while she struggled with her feelings.  _Be strong_ , she reminded herself.

After what felt like an eternity to Sarah, she sighed and pushed her plate away but still refused to meet the Elder's gaze. Eventually Samoth spoke. "Sarah, just because you think you are scarred by the past, doesn't mean that you should limit your future. Scars remind us of what we have overcome, they do not shape our future."

Sarah shook her head stubbornly. "I'm not destined from some great future. I… I can't... " Her voice trailed off in a whisper and tears sprang to her eyes at the admission. She felt like she was somehow letting Samoth down by refusing to accept what he saw as her destiny.

He looked at her with kindness and understanding shining in his ancient eyes and said, "Sarah, let me tell you a story." Confused at the abrupt change in subject, Sarah nodded, and the old centaur began. "When I was young, the clan was camping not far from here. At the time, there was no Goblin King. The throne had gone unclaimed for centuries, although the kingdom was still nominally part of the Court. Without a monarch, the Goblin Kingdom had shrunk down to the size of the Labyrinth itself, and the lands around it were largely deserted and poorly governed. The Labyrinth was a wild, untamed place, populated by all manner of dangerous and beautiful creatures. It was guarded only by the Hobgoblins that maintained a small settlement outside the crumbling castle."

Samoth sipped his drink and continued. "Early one morning, my friends and I were out, hunting for a stray calf that had wandered away. After some searching, we discovered that it's track ran toward the Labyrinth's walls. We were fearful, although we would never have admitted it. We had all heard tales of the strange and wild creatures that dwelt within the Labyrinth. Living as we did, moving through the grasslands in pursuit of our herds, we rarely encountered any danger. We were actually rather sheltered." Samoth shook his head and chuckled at the memory.

Sarah listened in fascination as he told her how he and his friends searched the area close to the Labyrinth for the stray calf, moving further and further into what was now the Goblin Kingdom as they did so. The day passed as they traveled, and eventually, their search for the calf turned into a game of daring each other to approach the Labyrinth as closely as possible. By nightfall, they were closer to the great maze than anyone had gotten in years. They could actually see the massive doors that marked one of the southern entrances. The group of young centaurs had made camp for the night, planning on continuing their search for the stray the next morning. There was the usual carousing and storytelling around the fire that night. Each young centaur vied with the others, trying to outdo them in the telling of scary tales involving creatures from the Labyrinth. Eventually, they tired of this pastime and, one by one, they fell asleep.

Samoth paused. His ancient eyes gazed into the distance and Sarah was sure that he wasn't seeing the hide walls of his tent. He was far away in his own mind, reliving the events of the night he approached the Labyrinth. Sarah shivered but remained silent, knowing that he would continue when he was ready to do so. After several moments, he cleared his throat and continued with his narrative.

"Sometime during the night, I found myself walking toward the doors of the Labyrinth. I was awake, but I didn't seem to have any control over my actions," Samoth told her. "I should have been afraid, but for some reason, I was completely calm. None of us had ever seen a structure as huge as the Labyrinth. To the wonder of my companions, I walked right up to the doors that night. Later, they told me that I had been surrounded by a flickering aura: blue and green. They shouted for me to stop but I couldn't hear their shouts. All I could hear was the whisper of my name on the wind. Something was calling me, drawing me inexorably closer and closer to the Labyrinth. Eventually I ended up in front of the massive doors and reached out to place my hand against the wood."

Here Samoth paused again, and looked at Sarah as though he were gauging her reaction to his story. Sarah was fascinated, but confused as to what any of this had to do with her. "What happened? Did you go inside?" she asked.

Samoth shook his head. "No. The moment I put my hand on the doors, I found myself floating in darkness. I couldn't see or hear anything. My body was suspended in space and there was no up or down. The blackness was so complete that I thought for a moment that I had been struck blind. After a while, flashes of visions began to take shape all around me. I saw many things in that empty place, some wonderful and others quite horrible. Many of them were hazy, as though I was viewing them through the smoke and heat of a large fire... but one... was very clear."

"What did you see?" Sarah whispered. She took a shaky breath, unable to look away from Samoth as he recounted his tale.

"I saw  _you_ ," he said simply. "Centuries before you were born I saw your face and knew that we would meet. A voice, or perhaps many voices, whispered your name. It was the one clear vision that I was granted that night. So, you will have to forgive me if I disbelieve you when you say that you are not important. I  _know_  that you are important. Over the years, I have been given other visions, although they are very rare, and I believe that it is my task to help you, to make sure that you are ready to meet destiny."

Sarah sat huddled on the cushions, fear and shock etched onto her face as she stared at the elderly centaur. She was almost waiting for the punchline, sure he was telling her a joke. She waited for him to crack a smile and tell her that he was just pulling her leg, but he didn't. He merely watched her as she began to shake. Her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. She refused to let them fall.

"Sarah," he said gently. "I did not tell you all this to frighten you. I just want you to understand that you are more than you appear to be and you are capable of more than you think." His face had grown concerned.

Sarah blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the tears that slowly trickled down her cheeks. She was growing heartily sick of the crying jags that seemed to overwhelm her with every other thought and conversation she had. She lowered her hands to her lap and willed her heart to slow, sitting with her fists clenched while she struggled with her thoughts.

"What does it all mean?" she asked tightly. "What is it that I am meant to do or be?" Her control began to slip and her voice rose, "Why does it have to be me!?" She rubbed her face with her hands, wiping away the wetness from her tears.  _Be strong_ , she reminded herself.  _Live in the moment and be strong. You will get through this._

Samoth shook his head sorrowfully. "I don't know, Sarah. I wish I did. All I know for sure is that you have a part to play in the future of the Underground, for good or ill. You and Jareth both."

Sarah was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she almost missed his last comment. When his words finally registered, she looked up sharply at him. "What does the Goblin King have to do with it?"

Samoth shrugged. "You are always connected. In all my visions, he is never far from you. Whatever your future holds, he will be a part of it."

Sarah scowled. "We don't have a _connection_. He's caused me nothing but grief and I want nothing more than to forget him!"

Samoth actually laughed. "Sarah, Sarah…" he chided her. "I have come to love you like a granddaughter over the past few weeks, but you are lying to yourself if you insist that you are not tied to the Goblin King somehow. Your connection to him is what ties you to the Underground!"

"No," Sarah retorted. "My love for my friends is what ties me to the Underground. Jareth and I share nothing but a mutual animosity."

"I think that you are mistaken," Samoth told her in a serious tone. "If you truly felt nothing but hate for him then you would not shy away from discussing him. All these weeks you have assiduously avoided mentioning him whenever possible. Whatever pain you may have caused each other, the ties that bind you together are far stronger than you are willing to admit."

"What pain could I have possibly caused him?" Sarah asked bitterly. "I was just a game to him, a diversion."

"I know little of what passed between the two of you." Samoth told her, his expression serious. "But I doubt that a man who thought of you as nothing more than a fleeting diversion would be so devastated when you left."

Samoth still spoke gently, but Sarah was unable to look him in the eye. She liked and respected the old centaur, and had never found him to be untruthful, so she could not doubt the veracity of his statement. Jareth's voice echoed in her head: _Fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave!_  Could she truly have misinterpreted his intentions so badly? Had her refusal really hurt him? For the first time, Sarah considered that his offer might not have been meant as the distraction she took it for. Maybe… just maybe, Jareth had been serious.

She looked down at the table, almost ashamed. She had never before considered their relationship to be anything other than adversarial. She realized now that she had been willfully blind to any other possibility because she was afraid of what it might mean to accept that he had actually been serious. "What no one knew was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl…" she whispered to herself. For just a minute, Sarah allowed herself to feel something that was suspiciously close to regret.

"Perhaps," Samoth murmured in response, so quietly that Sarah barely heard him.

Sarah turned her attention to the Elder and her expression hardened. "It doesn't matter. I had to get my brother back and I did what I had to do." Sarah ruthlessly pushed her budding regret away, reminding herself that someone like Jareth could not possibly feel anything but disdain after such a rejection. If she allowed herself to think otherwise, she would surely get hurt.

"Yes, you did what you felt was right at the time." When Sarah opened her mouth to speak again he shook his head. "Your actions, right though you felt them to be, almost certainly caused him pain. He has not been the same since then."

"What do you mean? He certainly seemed to be the same annoying, overbearing, and bossy Goblin King." Sarah looked confused.

Samoth smiled at her, as though her confusion amused him. "Was he?" Sarah scowled as she considered his innocuous seeming question. She had thought Jareth was the same, but now she wasn't as sure. There had been that one moment...

Samoth reached across the table to touch her arm. "Sarah, it doesn't matter. What happened between you two is in the past. You need to stop living in the past and be more concerned about the future. Whatever is meant to happen, will happen, whether you want it to or not. The key is to be prepared."

"Prepared for what?" Sarah muttered, sniffing slightly. She swallowed hard, trying hard not to cry once more.  _Be strong_ , she reminded herself yet again as Samoth leaned back and resettled himself in his familiar reclining position. He did not immediately reply to her question, but allowed her time to think about it on her own. As the silence in the tent lengthened and Sarah considered Samoths' words, she fidgeted on her cushions.

After several more moments, Sarah grew even more restless. She stood, intending to bid her friend and mentor goodnight. She simply couldn't sit still any longer. She had the urge to get up and run, to run as far and as fast as she could to try and escape.

Her thoughts must have been clear on her face because Samoth spoke before she could even open her mouth. "You can't outrun your destiny, Sarah. No one can. You need to prepare for the future. The Fates will have their way."

* * *

Sarah walked quickly back to her tent. The cold wind picked up and wisps of cloud scudded across the star strewn sky. The camp had fallen silent as most of the centaurs had long since sought the warmth of their beds. Samoth's last comment seemed to burn into her mind and she broke into a jog. The frosty night air burned her lungs as she did. The urge to run was strong, but the cold was a serious deterrent.

By the time she reached her tent, Sarah's teeth were chattering and she was no closer to resolving her inner conflict than she had been before. She paced around her tent, cursing as she stumbled over the cushions scattered about in the dark. She thought about lighting one of the braziers for both warmth and light but dismissed the idea, opting instead to retire for the night. Without bothering to undress, Sarah climbed onto her sleeping platform and cocooned herself in as many blankets as she could find.

Lying there in the dark, Sarah fancied she could sense some unnamable force looming over her. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed the feeling to pass, sure that it was just her imagination. Even so, she couldn't help feeling that she had no way out. She felt as trapped here in her tent as she had ever felt in the mental hospital Above; and it had nothing to do with the blankets that were wrapped snugly around her still thin frame. Despite her newly recovered health and freedom to leave whenever she wished, Sarah could not shake the sense of incipient doom. Sarah swallowed hard and tried to breathe evenly, willing sleep to come quickly.

Sleep, it seemed, had other ideas. It was slow in coming, and when it did, it came in pieces. Her rest was plagued by nightmares of vague disasters and ropes… always ropes; ties that held her in place. Desperately, Sarah struggled to be free of the coils that bound her, helpless in the face of the danger that she could feel drawing near.

Sarah screamed and raged against the tethers that held her. Her skin was rubbed raw as she chafed it against the bindings. Her voice grew hoarse and she cried out to her friends for help. None answered, despite her pleading. The blackness she was suspended in seemed to mock her efforts, and echoes of her cries bounced back from the hazy distance. Finally, sobbing with pain and fear, Sarah cried out for the last person she had ever expected to call on again. "Jareth! Jareth, I need you!"

Time seemed to stop. Sarah slumped to her knees and stilled, her harsh breathing the only sound that could be heard. The ropes and vines that bound her took advantage of her momentary lack of movement to twist even tighter around her, but Sarah took no notice. Anxiously, she watched the edges of the darkness, waiting for Jareth to appear.

Several tense minutes passed and he did not arrive. Sarah expelled the breath that she had been holding in a strangled sob and slumped even further onto the stone floor that had somehow appeared beneath her. She had been so sure that he would come to her aid. The fact that he didn't was somehow devastating. Sarah heard what she thought was a cruel chuckle, almost too faint for her ears to catch, drifting through the darkness around her as she knelt on the rough stones.

"Sarah!" Jareth's voice floated through the darkness around her and time seemed to start up again. Sarah snapped as upright as she was able to and tried to yell for him, only to have a vine slide across her mouth in a very effective gag. The best she could manage was a muffled yelp.

It was enough. Jareth pushed through the barrier of darkness at the edge of her vision and stopped short. He was winded and had obviously been fighting to reach her. His sword was out and there was a knife in his off hand. Sarah thrashed and tried to throw off her bindings, not wanting him to see her helpless, despite the fact that she had called on him for help.

Without a word, Jareth strode to her and began slashing at the ropes and vines that bound her. Tearing at them with his hands, he pulled them as far from her body as possible before attempting to cut them. It was slow, difficult work and Sarah began to panic again. Watching the sluggish pace of Jareth's progress, she became incapable of rational thought.

As soon as she was no longer gagged by the thick vine across her face, she began to babble incoherent phrases and broken demands, "Get them off! Get them off! I don't want this, I never wanted this. Why is this happening? Get them off! I don't want this! Cut them! Cut them all!" She began thrashing around again and Jareth dropped his knife when he nearly cut into her arm trying to free her hands.

"Sarah!" He reached out and pulled her closer. His gloved hands slid into the hair at the nape of her neck as he did so and Sarah stilled, although her breathing continued to be harsh and panicky. Jareth rested his forehead against hers. "You have to calm down, Sarah. It's alright. I'll get them off of you, but you have to be calm. I don't want to hurt you."

Sarah's lower lip quivered slightly and she drew a ragged breath. Sanity returned as the fog of panic cleared from her mind. Slowly, Jareth released her, picked up his knife, and went back to work. With Sarah calm, the knife slid through the ties with no more trouble than it would have taken to cut through a wheel of cheese. In a matter of moments, Sarah was free and Jareth stood, offering her his hand.

As she grasped his hand and stood, what felt like another vine snaked its way around her chest, down her arm, and around their hands. From the shocked expression on Jareth's face, Sarah could tell that he felt it as well. Disengaging their hands, they both looked down, but there was nothing to see as the feeling faded. It hadn't felt hostile or dangerous, like the bindings that had been holding her before. Instead it felt, comfortable, and that was nearly as scary.

Sarah stood looking up at Jareth, trying to decipher his reaction to the odd occurrence while he stared back for a few moments. His expression remained neutral, although Sarah fancied she could see a vague pain lurking in the depths of his mismatched gaze. Samoth's earlier insistence that she had hurt him as much as he had hurt her flashed through her mind. With a slight sigh, Jareth started to turn away without a word.

Somehow, Sarah couldn't let it things stand that way. He had come to her aid, despite every bitter accusation that she had hurled at him since her return. At the very least, he deserved her thanks. Sarah reached out with both hands and grasped his upper arms, knowing that he could easily pull out of her grasp if he wanted to. To her surprise, he didn't.

He turned back toward her, one eyebrow quirked up. For a moment, Sarah was at a loss for words. As soon as she had touched him, she was reminded of the feeling she had when she woke up in his arms the day he brought her back Underground. Trying desperately to gather her thoughts, she stammered, "You… you came."

One side of his mouth tilted up in a slight smile. "You called."

Sarah had no response. She glanced down at the remains of the ropes and vines scattered around them and shuddered. He reached out and pulled her close with one arm, the other hand came to rest on her shoulder, rubbing gently up and down in a soothing manner. Sarah continued to rest her hands on his upper arms, no longer gripping him, but simply continuing the contact. With a sigh, Sarah closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest, just above the amulet he always wore.

"I'll always be there, Sarah… if you call."

For a moment, Sarah let herself believe that it was true. Despite all the times he had left her on her own, she was suddenly filled with absolute certainty that he would indeed come to her if she should call him in reality. She waited for the illusion to shatter, knowing it was absurd. She was dreaming. None of this had any bearing on the actions of the real Jareth. But somehow, the moment didn't end as she expected. The world didn't come crashing down and the possibilities awakened by this newfound trust in him blossomed in her heart, despite the cold logic of her mind telling her that none of this was real.

Pushing her cynical thoughts aside, Sarah decided to just enjoy the dream while it lasted. She wrapped her arms around Jareth's lean waist and allowed herself to wallow in the scent of his skin and the feel of his strong arms around her. Her sudden desire for closeness seemed to startle Jareth, but only for a moment. He quickly wrapped his arms around her, wordlessly holding her close. With her ear pressed against his chest, she could hear the beating of his heart and she allowed the sound to lull her into a state of comfort and calm.

Suddenly, the sound of his heartbeat stuttered and he winced. At the same time, Sarah felt a sharp tugging in her own chest. Scared, she struggled out of his grasp and was shocked to see a thin, glowing line stretching between them.

She had just enough time to register the look on his face before the scene around her began to fade away. It was a mix of of shock, anguish, and… hope? Desperately, Sarah fought to remain in the dream, wanting to find out what was going on, even grasping the glowing connection between them. At her touch, the connection dissipated and Sarah felt a profound sense of loss. She cried out his name and thought she heard him call her name in response, but she was pulled inexorably toward the waking world by some nameless force. A chorus of voices sounded in her head, "Not yet, Airíoch. You are not yet ready. The King must wait. Much still remains to be done…"

Sarah woke in the cold of the predawn hour, heart aching and a feeling of loss sitting on her chest like a nightmare. Sarah laid still, puzzling over the meaning of the dream and waiting for the sun to rise over the plains. As time passed, the feeling of loss grew less, but the ache in her heart remained.

.

* * *

"I can't believe you actually left payment." Chiara muttered from the warmth of Katie's coat pocket. She had maintained a frosty silence toward the human woman as they fled from the manor house the night before. They had traveled as far as possible before the sun rose and exhaustion, coupled with the growing chill in the air, forced them to take cover. "You know they are going to realize that the jewelry wasn't made in the Underground, right?"

Katie sighed. "I'm an honest person. Stealing is wrong." Katie wrapped her blankets tighter around herself and stretched her hands out toward the fire. Chiara had finally grudgingly admitted that it was too cold to go without a fire, despite her fear of being caught. She knew that Katie couldn't find places to keep warm as easily as she could.

"Even if you are starving?" Chiara asked.

Katie hesitated before replying. Chiara doubted that she had ever been confronted with such a choice before. She was curious as to how the human would handle the ethics of the situation. "Wrong is wrong, Chiara, no matter the reasoning behind the action," Kaite eventually replied primly.

"Really?" Chiara chirped, sticking her head out of the fuzzy interior of the pocket and wincing as the cold air hit her face. "Let's accept for the moment that stealing is wrong. Don't you think that there are degrees of wrong? Stealing food because you are starving can't possibly be as bad as, say, stealing someones purse because you enjoy the thrill."

"There are some grey areas," Katie admitted, reaching for her water bottle. So far, she had refused to touch any of the stolen food, a fact for which Chiara was grateful. It meant that she still had time to subdue the pricking of her conscience regarding the effects of Faerie food on mortals.

Chiara climbed out of the warm pocket and fluttered quickly to the warm zone around the crackling campfire. The sun was well above the horizon, so there was little chance that someone would see the light and come to investigate. Luckily, the area had seen little rainfall recently, which meant that all the nearby firewood was very dry, resulting in little smoke to give them away. Chaira settled herself on the ground and watched her companion closely.

Katie continued, "While I would consider stealing for the thrill of it to be worse than stealing out of desperation and need, it is still stealing no matter what reason you give to justify the action. Although morality can be fluid and constantly changing, I believe that there are some things that are constant. Taking something you didn't earn and weren't given is stealing, especially when you have the ability to work for the things you want and need."

"So you agree that there are degrees of wrong," Chiara responded, cocking her small head to the side and regarding her companion intently. She was trying to get a sense of how far Katie could be pushed before she dug in her heels and refused to take part. Chiara wasn't sure exactly what they would have to get involved with in Allanar and she needed to get some idea of what Katie was willing to go along with. She herself had long since lost any sensitivity to the pangs of conscience in service to her master. Her dilemma about Katie's need for food being a worrisome exception. When your own life hangs in the balance daily, it becomes very easy to callously dismiss the lives and feelings of others. You quickly lose such niceties as common decency and an ethical code of conduct in the face of such harsh treatment as Chiara had received. "Surely you don't rank stealing as being the same as, say, taking someone's life?"

"Of course not. That's a given. Killing and stealing are very different degrees of wrong. Sure, stealing is a bad thing to do, but depending in the reasoning behind the theft, one can be more and less morally wrong. Even killing can be justified."

"How so?" Chaira pushed for a deeper answer, despite the odd looks her new friend was giving her. Having broken her own ages ago, she wanted to know more about Katie's moral compass.

"Well," Katie floundered for a moment, giving Chiara an odd look. Chiara fancied that the human was wondering what she was driving at. Taken at face value, her questions on the morality of various situations were odd, to say the least. Chiara decided that she would have to be more circumspect if she hoped to hide her dual nature from her companion for much longer.

"I would say that taking the life of someone who meant to kill you first would be less reprehensible than killing an innocent. Don't you agree?"

Chiara nodded. "So why are you willing to accept that there are lesser degrees of culpability for something as serious as murder, but not willing to accept the same for the far less egregious crime of stealing?"

Katie said nothing, but she did look thoughtful. Chiara gave her some time to think and sat watching the emotions play across her face as she finished the last of the water in one of the strange clear, but not glass, bottles that she had brought with her from Above.

"I suppose," Katie said. "That is has to do with premeditation. In the case of self defense, you have no way of knowing that you will be forced to take another's life. There is also the fact that they intended to harm you first, so the person you are harming was not technically innocent."

As she spoke, Katie reached for the bag that contained the fruits of their pilferage. Chaira's heart immediately sank. She was going to have to make a decision sooner than she had hoped. She barely heard Katie as she continued to talk about her views on the ethics of committing crimes. Chiara's attention was locked on her companion's actions as she removed an apple from the bag and rolled it absently between her hands while she talked.

Chiara fidgeted, watching every move her human companion made, twitching every time she thought Katie would take a bite, only to sigh with relief when she didn't. Eventually, Katie noticed her behavior and asked, "Are you alright? You look like you are being stung by bees."

"I'm fine," Chaira said, striving to appear as nonchalant as possible. She was just going to have to let Katie eat the Faerie food and deal with the fallout later, she decided. She couldn't risk exposing her true mission by getting all emotional and attached to the human.  _She is just here because she has the book and might be able to find Sarah,_  Chiara reminded herself. She settled herself back on the ground and looked expectantly at Katie. "You were saying…"

Katie looked confused for a moment and then continued. "Oh right! I guess I just feel bad becuase I still think that there were ways that I could have earned this rather than steal it." She held up the apple for emphasis and then raised it to her lips, clearly intending to take a bite.

"Don't eat that!" Without consciously making the decision to do so, Chiara shot up from her place by the fire and knocked the apple from Katie's hand before the woman had so much as touched her lips to it. For a moment, Chiara was as shocked by her unintended actions as Katie was.

"What the hell?" Katie exclaimed. "What's your problem?" She shot an annoyed look at Chiara and began to look for the now missing apple.

Chiara hovered near the fire, wondering what in the seven hells had possessed her. She had no sooner decided to let things play out without interfering, than she went and interfered!  _Idiot_ , she chided herself. _What are you going to tell her now?_

Spotting the apple at the same time, both Katie and Chiara attempted to retrieve it. "If you wanted it so bad," Katie told her, her voice taking on a sarcastic edge. "I would have been glad to share it with you. All you had to do was ask."

"You can't eat that!" Chiara reiterated.

"Why? You were the one who insisted that we had to steal food. Now you won't let me have any of it?" Katie shook her head. "That's messed up."

Thoughtlessly, Chiara blurted out, "If you eat that, you'll end up like Sarah."

"Like Sarah?" Katie looked bewildered. "You mean I'll go and get myself lost or something? You aren't making any sense."

Chiara could have kicked herself for making such a stupid remark. She still didn't know how to think before she spoke, despite her Master's repeated lessons. She fingered the collar around her neck and sighed. She had no choice now but to tell Katie at least some of the truth. Chiara fluttered to the ground next to the fire, thinking it would be safer if Katie took it into her head to bat her into the flames.

"When Sarah was here last time, she ate a peach. Since it was grown Underground, it was Faerie food. A mortal who eats Faerie food is bound forever to the Underground," she told her companion in a rush.

Katie was suddenly very still. Chiara could feel her gaze beginning to burn angrily as her friend looked at her. Meekly, Chiara continued, "When she returned Above, Sarah could no longer eat mortal food."

Chiara wrung her tiny hands in anxiety. "Most mortals who eat Faerie food die within weeks of returning Above." The nyxie shook her small head and said pleadingly, "I don't know why Sarah survived, but I don't want to see you end up like that."

"So, Sarah wasn't crazy… in any way?" Katies voice was deadpan but she was still glaring daggers at her.

Chiara shook her head. "No. She wasn't crazy at all. She didn't eat because she couldn't, and clearly, she really did see things that no one else could." The nyxie waved her hand, indicating the world around them.

"So," Katie said, anger bleeding into her tone, coloring it like wine spilled on a white cloth. "When were you planning on telling me that I would have to choose between starving or being trapped Underground forever?"

Chiara shuffled her feet and looked down at the ground in abject misery. "I don't know," she whispered.

Katie's mouth popped open. "You weren't going to! Up until just a moment ago, you were going to just let me eat that apple, even knowing the consequences? You miserable little monster!" Katie exclaimed.

Unable to stand it any longer, Chaira flew up until she was right in front of Katie's face. "Please, Katie. I didn't know what to do! I was assigned to be your guide and you have to eat somehow. It's just… you're my friend, and I didn't know what to do." Despair washed through her as she realized that she had probably ruined her only friendship in addition to earning a serious reprimand from her master.

Fluttering lower, Chiara muttered bitterly, "It's not as if I had a choice. No one betrays my master and comes out of the experience unscathed."

Several minutes passed in silence as Katie continued to glare at the Nyxie. Suddenly, Chiara made the only offer she could think of, although it was likely to get her into even more trouble. "If you want, I can go Above and try to bring back some food for you."

"How could you possibly carry enough food to be of any use?" Katie asked tartly.

"I can't carry much in one trip," Chiara admitted. "But I can make quite a few trips before I am too exhausted to continue. What if I make trips Above every night to get you food and you travel during the day while I rest?" It was a desperate plan, and one that was sure to be discovered by Mathyn quickly, but it was the only thing that Chiara had to offer. She certainly didn't have the magical strength to return the human to her home. Even if she could, she suspected that it would mean death for both of them. As it was, she wasn't sure that her master would tolerate her trips Above.

Katie pursed her lips. Staring long and hard at the Nyxie. Her expression was unreadable and Chiara held her breath. Finally she nodded and Chiara breathed a sigh of relief. If they were very, very lucky, Mathyn would allow this. If not, they could very well end up dead.

Chiara wrestled with herself once again. She needed to warn Katie that the Fae she knew as the Goblin King could easily show up almost as soon as she disappeared. Chiara didn't want to say anything that would make Katie suspicious, because her Master would be sure to notice, but she didn't want to say nothing either. She finally settled on a general warning.

"Katie, the Goblin King is sure to notice that I am no longer Underground," Chiara said, rubbing her neck where the collar rested. "He may show up, after I leave."

Katie nodded, still clearly angry at the nyxie. Chiara would have liked to have said more, but she had obviously already done enough damage for one day. Sadly, she gathered her magic and disappeared, leaving her human companion sitting alone next to a campfire deep in the Wood Elven Kingdom.

* * *

Mathyn sat at the head of a makeshift table in a cave high in the northern mountains. The meeting was not going well, in his opinion. The humans, Fae, Elves and other creatures that filled the seats around the table had spent the better part of the morning arguing about the best way to invade and conquer the dwarven kingdom. Their arguing was beginning to get on his nerves and he could feel a headache building behind his eyes.

With a growl of annoyance, he rubbed his forehead. Instantly, the arguments that had been taking place were cut off as everyone looked expectantly at him. He swept the table with his gaze before speaking, a trick that he had learned from his father. "This is getting us nowhere. We need to be in Bhandarth before the heavy snows fall or we will get bogged down in the mountains for the winter. If we hope to keep to our timeline, the we cannot afford such a delay."

"Perhaps we should wait until spring and move the timeline forward," suggested one of the Dark Elves.

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear," Mathyn roared, smashing his fist against the table. "The Airíoch has returned! If I cannot find her, then I must be in a position of overwhelming strength before she discovers her power. It is absolutely critical that we secure a clear path through Avalon and the Dwarven Kingdom.

"Why both? Doesn't it make more sense to fight them one at a time rather than fight a war on two fronts?" asked a human who was fairly new to the council. Despite the fact that he rose to his position when the previous commander of his unit ran afoul of Mathyns' temper, he didn't seem to understand that crossing the volatile Fae was playing with fire.

A sleek, dark haired succubus at the other end of the table made a sound of annoyance before Mathyn could even so much as glare at the man. "Because, you idiot, we have to neutralize both kingdoms quickly. Conor Lagadec can field more men than virtually any other kingdom Underground and if we leave Andris Lavasmith alone for long enough, he'll entrench himself so deeply into those mountains of his that we will never be able to pry him loose."

"So?" countered the human. "Let the dwarves dig in. They can squat up in the mountains while we eliminate the rest of the Underground. By the time they come out, it will be far too late.

"Fool," hissed Mathyn. "I can't afford to have a hostile force at my back when I attack the Goblin Kingdom. Do not underestimate that wily old dwarf. He is three times the tactician you are. He would not remain in Bhandarth long after we begin to attack the Labyrinth. He and his dwarves would come howling down out of the mountains and fall on us like an avalanche."

He looked around the table. "I must control the portals in Bhandarth to ensure that no one can sneak an army through the mountains and flank us. Do I make myself clear?"

The gathered commanders nodded and the talk around the table turned to the best passes to take into Bhandarth. Mathyn listened until he grew bored and then stabbed his finger down on the map.

"We will take this pass," he said. Despite the finality in his tone, several of the commanders raised objections. Mathyn cut them off with a wave of his hand. "We will take Ravencall Pass." His tone dared any to object again. None did.

"What of the orcs, my lord?" asked the lone dwarf at the table. He was a scraggly looking rascal, with stringy yellow hair and a patchy, greasy beard. They had found him living alone on a small homestead in the most northerly reaches of the Dwarven Kingdom. There were rumors among the unit he commanded that he was a wanted man in Bhandarth. Mathyn neither knew nor cared what his story was, provided that the dwarfs loyalty was unswerving.

"What?" Mathyn said shortly.

"What of the orcs?" the dwarf repeated. "Last time my unit engaged in a skirmish with a troop of 'em, near half of 'em turned on my men. Mistakes like that could get costly, 'specially when we get down to the serious fighting."

Mathyn snickered. "That it could, my dwarven friend. I believe that they have learned their lesson. If not…" his grin turned evil and several of the commanders around the table shuddered visibly at the red glint in the Fae prince's eyes. "If not, then I will simply have to make an example of every orc who dares defy me."

The silence in the cave was nearly deafening after that.

"Now," exclaimed Mathyn, dropping his air of menace and resuming a more charming persona. "Let us turn our attention to Avalon. I hear that Conor has been building border outposts. We will want to put a stop to that."

The commanders breathed a collective sigh of relief at the change in the Fae's manner. There was something... corrupt and alien about him at times. Something that exuded a feeling of malice so intense one could almost taste it. Glad to be rid of the oppressive feeling, the commanders immediately began discussing the best ways to neutralize Avalon's armies.

Mathyn sat back and listened to the discussions. Idly, he brushed his awareness over his connection with the nyxie, something he did many times each day without thinking about it. It had become a habit. This time was different. He could not pinpoint her location. He sat up, clearly agitated, and tried again, incredulous that she would have the audacity to even attempt an escape. Once again, he came up empty.

The commanders, noticing that something had grabbed the attention of their leader, had fallen silent. Without a word, Mathyn rose and stalked out of the cave, leaving his confused unit leaders to sort out a plan of attack on the humans. He had something more important to deal with.

Gritting his teeth in fury, Mathyn attempted, once more, to contact Chiara. Again, he got no reply. With a curse, he gathered the magic flowing through the area around him and twisted it to his will, opening a temporary portal to the rough area where he had last sensed the traitorous little faerie.

_She must have gone Above,_  he reasoned.  _Otherwise I would be able to find her, regardless of where she tried to hide here Underground._  "She will regret her disobedience," he growled, stepping through the magical barrier and emerging in the forest that edged its way into the center of the Wood Elven kingdom.

He conjured a crystal, which swirled sluggishly in reds and blacks before he hissed, "Show me the girl, Katie." The crystal cleared and the human woman appeared in it's depths, angrily striding around, scowling at her surroundings. He saw no sign of Chiara.

When he reached the edge of the clearing in which the human and the nyxie had built a campfire, Mathyn paused, his temper simmering, and waited until Katie had her back turned to him for greatest effect. When she turned away, he stepped out into the clearing and yelled, "Where is that thrice damned nyxie!?"


	18. The Consequences of Caring

**Disclaimer -**  The usual disclaimers apply. Don't own it. Don't profit from it... blah blah blah.

A/N - Many thanks to those who did some editing for me: ladyofshalott19 and my sister, or a lot of editing... grumble grumble... insert inappropriate word... mumble... my husband. I do appreciate his help, but sometimes... Lol.

 

**WARNING -** As promised, here is your trigger warning for this chapter. Brought to you by: suggestive themes, violence, some sadistic torture, and rapacious threats.

* * *

Katie was pacing the clearing, skirting the fire with each pass, as she thought about Chiara's behavior. In the time they had spent together, she had come to think of the little nyxie as an ally, if not a friend. To learn that Chiara had been hiding things from her was disheartening. Although the nyxie had chosen the honorable path this time, Katie had to wonder how many other secrets the little wench was hiding. She was worried, and rather hurt.

She continued her haphazard pacing back and forth. She muttered to herself and occasionally waved her arms around like a mad woman to illustrate her points to herself. Just as she turned around for what felt like the hundredth time, Katie was startled nearly to death by the appearance of the dark haired Goblin King in front of her. If his sudden appearance was not enough to frighten her, the look on his face and the angry roar that broke the woodland peace would have done the trick.

"Where is that thrice damned nyxie!"

Katie gasped, stopping in her tracks in sheer terror. Chiara had warned her that her "master" might appear, but Katie hadn't given the warning much thought. She had blithely assumed that she would be able to deal with him much as she had in her apartment Aboveground. It took only a few seconds of observation to disabuse her of that notion. Here, in his own world, he was truly terrifying. Although he was only slightly taller than she was, he seemed to tower over her. His dark clothing stood out in stark contrast to the bright morning light of the forest and the expression on his face could only be described as murderous. His mouth was twisted into a sneer and he glared fiercely at her. Katie fancied that his eyes were tinged red with his anger.

Realizing that he was waiting for her to reply, she stammered, "She… she isn't here right now."

"I am aware of that, stupid wench. I asked where she  _is._ "

Gathering her courage, Katie took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "When it comes to questions, I have one for you. Why did you neglect to tell me that I couldn't eat anything Underground without becoming dependent on faerie food?" She crossed her arms over her chest and tried her best to look strong and competent. Katie wasn't sure why she was protecting the nyxie, who, less than an hour before, had revealed that she had been keeping critical information from her. However, seeing the Fae that the nyxie fearfully referred to as her "master" so full of rage gave her a sense of the kind of life that the nyxie was leading. Katie was filled with pity. Chiara's comments about "not having a choice" and her frequent fearful glances over her shoulder were more than explained by the behavior of the Fae standing before Katie now.

His rage cooled slightly and he smiled cruelly. Katie could have kicked herself when she realized that her question gave him the clue he needed to at least deduce what Chiara was up to, if not her exact location. "I see," he said. "The little nyxie seems to have grown a conscience. What a shame." He sighed lightly. For a moment, Katie was unsure as to whether he was calming down, or simply governing his temper slightly better than when he had first arrived in the clearing. When he spoke again, his deceptively calm voice held a note that chilled Katie to the bone, convincing her that her latter assumption had been the correct one. He was still very angry indeed.

"Oh well, no matter, this too can be useful."

He took several steps toward her and Katie retreated as quickly as he advanced. She did not like where this conversation was headed. She tried to distract him by asking another question. "Did you even think about the fact that I wouldn't have anything to eat?"

The pale Fae stopped his forward march long enough to laugh callously at her question. "I care nothing for mortals," he informed her with another heartless bark of laughter and a flippant wave of his hand. "It doesn't matter in the least to me if you become addicted to faery food. You are here to locate your friend. You can either starve while you do it, or eat what you can find. It is all the same to me."

Katie began to tremble with anger and she felt slightly sick. It was completely foreign to her, his total disregard for the welfare of another living being. Katie couldn't imagine being so ruthlessly indifferent to the lives of others, nor did she want to try. In the several years that she had worked with the mentally ill, Katie had only run into a few people who even began to approach this level of narcissistic psychopathy. Realistically, she knew that people like him existed Above, but they were generally confined to the most secure hospitals and prisons that could be devised. It was truly terrifying to see such a person roaming free. Her thoughts swirled in dismay.  _He has the personal charisma of a sociopath, but with the magical abilities of the Fae._  She shuddered.

"You are unbelievable," Katie breathed in horror as these realizations washed over her. "What happened to you that you feel it is acceptable to treat people this way?"

His scowl deepened. Katie watched his face change once more, displaying the fury that he had briefly kept in check. Despite knowing that it was unwise to antagonize him, she continued speaking without waiting for him to answer. Her own anger allowing her to disregard the warning bells going off in her head. "How am I meant to find Sarah before I starve to death if I refuse to eat anything in this damned world?" she asked with some fire of her own. One thing was for sure: There was no way that she was going to leave Sarah Underground with this monster.

"You stupid, idiot girl," he snarled, striding across what little remained of the distance between them. He grabbed her by the arm and shook her like a rag doll. "You have the Book of the Labyrinth in your possession. Such an item could be easily used to locate the Airíoch!"

Katie's head whipped back and forth with the force of his shaking and she bit her tongue painfully, tasting blood. The earlier alarm bells that she had ignored in her anger were now screeching sirens in her mind, warning her that this man was dangerous. Her survival instincts kicked in and she struggled to free herself from his grasp, fearful of what he could do to her. As quickly as he had pounced on her, the Goblin King threw her away from him in disgust. Katie landed in a painful heap some distance away. Thankful that it had not been worse, she rolled over and spat blood on the ground, trying to control the reactionary heaving of her stomach as she did so. She heard him moving around the clearing and whipped around to face him, still trembling and fighting her uneasy stomach.

He took several steps toward her. Adrenaline shot through her and Katie nearly panicked. Remembering his comment about the book and not wanting him to touch her again, she babbled, "I don't know how to use that book! I just picked it up because it belongs to Sarah. I can't even open it!"

"Liar!" he sneered, taking another step toward her. Katie cowered away from him but he turned instead and snatched her backpack from where it sat on the ground beside the fire. He had barely touched it before an unseen force hurled him across the clearing, slamming him into a tree. Katie watched in shock as he briefly slumped to the ground. She knew that she should run, but she couldn't seem to make herself move.

A brief groan from him finally pushed her into action, and Katie scuttled over to her backpack. She began frantically rummaging around in it, almost mindlessly searching for the book that she had picked up in Sarah's hospital room. All she could think, through her fight or flight haze, was that it was obviously so important to him, so there was no way that she was going to allow him to get his hands on it. Katie had a feeling that once he did, she would become expendable. She was so focused on her task that she did not notice the movements of the Fae across the clearing.

The moment her hand closed around the book, Katie whirled and took off running as fast as she could, dumping the contents of her backpack on the ground as she did. Her one thought was to get as far away from the now terrifying Goblin King as she could. She only hoped that he was still incapacitated from hitting the tree with such force. Unfortunately, she was too late.

She had just passed the treeline at the edge of the clearing when she felt something icy cold hit her back and shatter. The cold feeling spread, leaving numbness in its wake. She was able to take only one more step before the numb feeling engulfed her. She fell, hitting the ground painfully, unable to catch herself with her limp extremities. The book slipped from her nerveless grasp, landing with a thud on the leaf litter that covered the forest floor.

As Katie attempted to will some feeling back into her body, she heard slow, measured footsteps approaching from behind her. The leaves rustled and crunched as he sauntered through them, sounding unnaturally loud to her fear heightened senses. As he stepped over her, bringing his boots into view, Katie tried to roll away, but only managed to twitch slightly.

A dark chuckle sounded from above her head. "Did you really think you could run from me?" he asked. "If you will not do what you are told willingly then I have ways of compelling you to obey me," he informed her, his voice taking on a dark tone as he loomed above her immobile form. He dug his boot painfully under her side and flipped her over.

Now that she could see the glowing orb of swirling red and black magic that he held in his hands, Katie's terror increased. She tried to speak, to promise him that she would do whatever he asked, but her throat was as lifeless as the rest of her body. Clinically, she didn't know how she was still breathing, given the lack of feeling in her body. As a nurse, she knew that such cases of paralysis generally led to suffocation without quick medical intervention. She watched the magical orb grow larger and wondered if suffocation would not be the kinder fate.

Without warning, the magic in his hands dimmed and went out. Mentally, Katie breathed a sigh of relief, until he spoke.

"Hmm. It appears that the Book of the Labyrinth is a hindrance in more than one way," he said, his voice irritated. He squatted down next to her. "What to do with you then?" he murmured to himself before falling silent. After several moments a terrifying grin spread across his face.

"This will be most amusing," he told her. He conjured another crystal that pulsated in his hand for a few moments before coalescing into a spiky looking metal ring. Katie's mind whirled frantically.  _Perhaps Chiara will return? Maybe there's a woodsman nearby who could come to my rescue? If I could just move then maybe I would have a chance!_ Tears leaked from her eyes as she laid helplessly on the ground while the Goblin King grasped her left hand and roughly shoved the metal ring over her wrist like a bracelet, chanting in an unfamiliar language as he did so.

As soon the ring touched her skin, Katie's nerves flared in agony. The metal spikes digging into her flesh were only the beginning of the pain that flowed up her arms and suffused her entire body. Wracking sobs tore from her throat as the pain flowed and ebbed, first converging in one place, and then moving on to another portion of her body. The frustrating numbness that she had been fighting against only moments before would have been a welcome relief to the anguish that now caused her to writhe on the ground like one possessed.

Slowly, Katie became aware that the chanting had stopped and her tormentor had stepped away from her. The magic began to ebb and Katie was once more able to control her movements. Slowly and painfully she struggled up into sitting position and looked at her arm, aware that the Fae, who stood only a few paces away, was watching her every move.

Instead of seeing the metal encircling her arm as she expected, Katie found that she now had a series of spiky black wounds burned and cut into her arm. The wounds healed as she watched, leaving her with a curious mixture of shiny pink scars and black tattoo lines running around her forearm starting at her elbow and stretching around her arm and down across the back of her hand.

A dark chuckle emanating from the Fae next to her drew her attention away from her arm and back to the root cause of her pain. "Now you will do exactly as you are told," he informed her. "If you fail to do so, then you will be reduced to this…"

Without warning the marks on her arms flared and the pain returned, white hot and excruciating. For several moments, Katie was unable to do anything but thrash on the ground, struggling to breathe. Once again, the pain receded. This time, Katie didn't have the strength to move. She remained on the ground, weak and terrified of what might come next.

Impatiently, the Fae grabbed her by the hair and yanked her towards the book that still lay where she had dropped it on the ground. Katie shrieked at the fresh pain and flailed her arms and legs as he hauled her across the forest floor. Mercifully, the distance between her and the book was short. He dropped her unceremoniously next to it. "Open it," he ordered shortly.

Bowing her head in defeat, Katie obeyed. Silently begging the book to cooperate, she reached out with a trembling limb. She tried to lift the cover but only succeeded in flipping the book over. Panicking, she grasped the book with both hands and attempted to pry it open by force. It remained as solid as a block, despite her best efforts.

Terrified, Katie looked up at the Fae who loomed over her as she huddled on the ground with the book in her lap. "I don't understand," she whispered plaintively. "I've seen Sarah read the book, but it won't open for me!" Tears rolled down her cheeks as he frowned and the pain once more shot through her. Her heart stuttered in her chest and Katie wondered how much of this she could take before she had a heart attack.

"Then you damn well better find Sarah soon, because I am running out of patience." He crouched down and grasped her now marked arm. "If you do not have more information about her whereabouts within the week, then I will return, and the punishment that you have thus far received will seem like a gentle rebuke in the face of what I will do to you next." He stood, hauling her upright as he did and pulled her close to him. His free hand roughly groped her body, moving from her breast to the apex of her thighs, trailing agony in it's wake, and leaving her no doubt as to his meaning. She hung, terrified, in his grasp.

Swinging her around so that she was now just within the clearing, he loosed another blast of magic into her arm, chanting as he did so. His lips twisting with contempt, he dropped her limp form on the ground in disgust. Katie looked up, confused. There had been no pain accompanying that blast of magic.

Seeing her look of confusion, he smiled cruelly and conjured another crystal. "You had better hope that bothersome little nyxie returns soon," he told her. "I just keyed your new leash to her soul in addition to mine. If she leaves you, or you try to run, the pain will return. I wonder how long it will take before your body gives out and you die from the agony?" he mused speculatively. He laughed gaily at her look of horror, and dropped the crystal on the ground, disappearing.

Instantly Katie's body was suffused with agonizing pain. Once more she writhed on the ground, praying for the pain to end. This time, there was no relief. Katie's screams echoed through the woods, tearing her throat cruelly. When darkness began to creep in on the edges of her blurred vision, she welcomed it with relief.

* * *

It had taken Chiara longer than she would have liked to locate some Aboveground food that she was able to carry back for Katie. She hadn't realized that food Above was generally stored in things call 'fridges'. Being too small to open the doors to these food storage closets, Chiara had been forced to search for food that was left out. Not having spent nearly as much time Above as others of her kind, Chiara had absolutely no idea how to navigate this world. She had a feeling that she was passing by many opportunities because she simply wasn't recognizing things as food when she saw them. She had seen mortals eating things that didn't look even remotely like food to her. Luckily, she did not encounter any other faerie creatures while she wandered around, searching for something that Katie could eat.

Eventually, she stumbled across a building that seemed to be full of food, judging by the number of people going in empty handed and later emerging with full bags. After observing it for a while, she concluded that it was some kind of marketplace. Further investigation convinced her that she would have to slip in through the back if she was to have any chance of not being seen. There were too many bright lights and too many mortals coming and going for her to be able to use the doors in the front of the building. The back looked far more promising, with large doors that opened periodically so large boxlike containers could be positioned in front of them amidst loud beeping noises. Taking advantage of one such box being maneuvered away from one of the doors, Katie slipped inside.

She was confronted by piles of boxes and crates, stacked in layers, almost to the ceiling. She kept out of sight, listening to the chatter of the mortals who worked below as she searched for something she could return Underground with. Chiara finally found a section that seemed to have fruit and vegetables in easy to access containers. Thankful that she had finally found food, she waited until the mortal workers, who were doing something they called 'stocking', moved out into the larger part of the building. Wrapping her arms around a ripe piece of fruit, Chiara gathered her small store of magic and popped back to the Underground.

At first glance, the camp seemed deserted. The fire had all but burned out, which was odd, as the chilly wind was still blowing, despite the bright light of the sun shining down on the clearing. Her first thought was that Katie had taken advantage of her absence to leave. After several moments of crushing despair, Chiara realized that Katie's belongings were still scattered around the clearing. There was also an undertone to the area, a faint whiff of something dark and tainted that told her that her master had been there.

With this realization came fear, both for herself and for her friend. If Mathyn had been here, that meant that he was aware of her absence, and there was no telling what he had done to Katie in his anger. Chiara just hoped that Katie was still here. Carelessly dropping the plum that she risked so much to get, Chiara began to look for the mortal woman.

After several minutes of searching, Chiara found Katie slumped on the ground just inside the clearing, obviously unconscious. Frantically, she searched all around the body of her human friend, but saw nothing that would account for her nearly comatose condition. Katie was lying half on her side with one arm outstretched and the other awkwardly pinned underneath her body. Chiara tried to turn her friend over, but quickly realized that she was simply too small.

Frustrated at the limitations imposed on her by her size, Chiara stopped to consider what else she could do to help her friend.  _Perhaps some water?_  Chiara thought. Hoping that it would help, Chiara headed in the direction of a stream that passed close to the clearing. As she flew, she searched through the nearly denuded trees for a leaf that she could use to make some sort of cup with as she went.

A horrific scream from Katie stopped her before she made it to the stream. Afraid that something was once again attacking her friend, Chiara turned back, dropping the leaf that she had worked so hard to find. She moved less than two of her own body lengths back toward Katie when the screaming ceased. Cautiously, Chiara made her way back to the campsite.

She was relieved to find that Katie was alive and looked relatively unharmed. Her friend was now sitting, still hunched on the ground where she had first found her. Katie's eyes looked haunted and she was cradling her left arm in her lap when Chiara flew up.

Landing on the ground in front of the mortal woman, Chiara hesitantly tried to get her attention. "Katie? Katie, are you alright? Katie!"

After several moments, Katie turned her dull gaze on Chiara. "He was here," she whispered raggedly.

"I know," Chiara told her, shifting her weight from side to side and fluttering her gossamer wings in agitation. "I'm so sorry, I never should have gone Above, It was a stupid…"

Katie cut her off with another croaking whisper, "No!" she cleared her throat and tried again. This time her voice came out as more than a whisper, but it was still painfully rough, as though she was recently getting over some illness. "No, It isn't your fault. You tried to warn me. I'm sorry I got so angry. I… I can't imagine the life you've lived under that psychopath's rule."

"What happened?" Chiara asked, her eyes going wide at hearing her Master described in such a manner.

Wordlessly, Katie extended her left arm, causing Chiara to gasp and dart forward. "What did he do!?" She reached out toward Katie's arm but jerked herself back at the last moment, unsure if she wanted to touch it or not. It wasn't that it looked grotesque, it was actually quite interesting, if you looked at it as an artistic choice. However, Chiara was quite sure that Katie had not chosen this and she didn't want to cause the human woman any more pain.

"He cursed me." Katie said shortly. Her voice was getting stronger again, but would probably continue to be rough for several days. Chiara was well acquainted with that feeling.

"What do you mean?" she asked, furrowing her small brow.

Katie stood unsteadily and walked gingerly back to the fire. She placed another log on it and curled up on her side, facing the now strengthening flames. Chiara noticed that she was careful not to lie on her left arm. Chiara helped her pull a blanket over her battered body as Katie spoke, detailing her encounter with Mathyn. Chiara shuddered at the description of his graphic threats. Despite her earlier frustration with her size, she was suddenly glad to be so small. Her size meant that there was a limit to the abuse she could suffer at his hands. Especially if he intended to keep her alive.

When Katie told her about how Mathyn had keyed the spell to her presence, Chiara recognized that the punishment was meant, not just for Katie, but for them both. He had obviously become suspicious that she had grown to like the mortal woman. She was familiar enough with the way his mind worked to know that he was using Katie's pain as a warning to her about the consequences of disloyalty. Mathyn did not tolerate competition. In his mind, any indication of sympathy towards someone else was tantamount to snubbing him. As a result, every time she stepped out of line or strayed too far from her friend, she would be causing Katie unimaginable pain.

Tears gathered in her eyes, but Chiara impatiently dashed them away. Katie had fallen asleep while she sat thinking about the underlying message of her master's punishment. Chaira sat down, leaning against Katie's sleeping form for over an hour, trying to think of what they should do next. She knew that her Master's threats were not idle. They had better show some progress in their mission or he would make good on them.

Sorrow filled the small nyxie. Eventually the tears returned and this time, she let them flow. She had not cried in years. Not since the very early days of her captivity and service to her master. She had been so young, just a few weeks from her first flight, when she had stumbled across the Fae Prince as he traveled north. As he had done with Katie, he first charmed her and then turned on her, ensnaring her soul and binding it to himself in a dark ritual that made it impossible for her to escape from him. She had long ago given up any hope of redemption.

Eventually, exhaustion overtook her and Chiara fell asleep as well. In her dreams she ran from her master, but he caught her, as he always would. His message was clear and concise. She was to keep his true identity hidden and continue with the mission. Find the Airíoch. Failure would mean severe punishment… for both of them.

As soon as he released her sleeping mind, Chiara woke with a start. She huddled next to Katie, unsleeping, for the rest of day. She watched the sun sink lower and lower, and tried to plan their next move.

* * *

Jareth strode through the hallways in the Goblin Castle, heading for the kitchens. Despite the dawn light just beginning to peek through the highest windows of the castle, the servants were up and bustling around. Jareth knew that he could demand that they bring his breakfast to the dining hall, if he preferred, but he did not want to take the extra time. He was anxious to get to work, especially after the dream he'd had about Sarah.

When he had first awoken, his heart was pounding and an unfamiliar feeling of hope swirled within it. It took him several minutes to convince himself that it had all been a dream and that he and Sarah had not actually been together. Still, the dream had felt so very real. There was an unaccustomed new feeling, like a patch sewn over the ragged gash that had been ripped in his soul. He had lived with the pain for so long, that he had forgotten what it felt like to live without the rip. Even now, as he entered the kitchens and seated himself at the plain worktable in the center of the room, Jareth was left with a feeling of comfort that he had not felt for six years.

Jareth scowled. He had to put this behind him. He was a betrothed man; all but married! For the good of the Realms, he had made the decision that he would give up any hopes and dreams that he might have regarding Sarah. Nights like this one were less than helpful in achieving that goal. He needed to find her and get her out of his Kingdom, and out of his life, once and for all.

"You look very sour this morning, Jareth."

The Goblin King looked up at the person standing before him with a plate of food and was surprised to see Diona. "You're up early," he remarked, accepting the plate that she set in front of him with a gracious nod.

"When you get to be my age," she told him with a small smile, "Sleep just doesn't mean as much as it used to. Now, why the surly scowl?" She sat on the bench to his left and a goblin cook ran up and placed a plate of fruit and a cup of tea in front of her. Diona smiled her thanks at the little creature and then turned her attention to Jareth expectantly.

Deciding to tell her about the dream in hopes that she would be able to shed some light on it, Jareth said, "I dreamed of Sarah again."

Diona raised her eyebrows. "Tell me about it."

So Jareth related the dream to her: How he had heard Sarah crying out for him in the dark, how he found her bound and gagged on the floor, how he had cut the bonds and then felt something strange pass between them when he grasped her hand, the way Sarah clung to him, the jolt of seeing that glowing connection stretching between their hearts…Throughout his recitation, Diona looked more and more interested, although she made no comment.

"... and then I woke up," he finished "This has got to stop. I am supposed to be courting the Lady Belinda. In fact, I am supposed to visit her home this evening. I can't spend my nights dreaming these damnably real dreams about a woman who has made her disgust for me all too clear."

"Hmm." Diona looked thoughtful. "Have you had other dreams?"

"Quite a few," Jareth admitted. "Although some are less vivid than others." Out of the corner of his eye, Jareth saw that one of the servants was lingering a little too long at a nearby task and he turned to glare at her. With some surprise, he recognized her as the servant who had propositioned him the night he became betrothed to Belinda.

With a blush and a quick curtsey by way of apology, the girl quickly back away and left the kitchen. Jareth mentally cursed himself for not taking more care with what was, after all, sensitive information, considering his current position. Ever since Sarah had returned to the Underground, he seemed to be slipping up more and more often with regard to his jealously guarded privacy.

"How interesting," the Priestess remarked blandly, drawing his attention back to the conversation they had been having. She had clearly noticed the subtle interaction between Jareth and the servant girl. Jareth watched as she conjured a small crystal. It floated up into the air, light as a feather, and then popped.

Jareth looked around. Nothing appeared different. He turned back to Diona with a questioning look and she smiled. "I just… persuaded… the servants to ignore our presence altogether," she informed him with a merry twinkle in her aged eyes.

He nodded, but still lowered his voice and leaned closer to speak. "The dreams are so very..." Jareth paused, looking for the right word. "They feel so tangible. Is it possible that they are more than just dreams?"

"What do you think?" Diona asked him. Her face gave no indication of what she was thinking and Jareth started to grow frustrated.

"Well? What do the dreams mean?" he pressed, ignoring her question. He didn't know exactly what to think and, frankly, wasn't in the mood to try and puzzle it out. "I thought that the Priestesses made a study of this kind of thing."

"Oh they did," Diona assured him. "But I never had any training in it, it was never my area of expertise."

Jareth huffed in exasperation, but Diona continued. "On the surface, I would say that the dreams mean that you still have feelings for Sarah, feelings you wish to act on, am I right?

Jareth reddened slightly in embarrassment, but chose not to answer, despite the cover offered by Diona's spell. He did not need to feed the gossip mill any further than he already had by choosing to have this conversation in so public a place as the castle kitchens. Jareth dismissed her speculations with a snort. "And the deeper meaning?" he asked quickly. Diona smiled knowingly.

"I am by no means an expert in the art of dream interpretation," she reminded him, the small smile leaving her face. "However, if I had to guess, I would say that the vines and ropes represented Sarah's ties to her old life and the past. You cutting them clearly has some sort of symbolic meaning, but I am not skilled enough to even guess at what that is, I'm sorry."

Diona looked so downcast at her inability to properly interpret the dream, that Jareth was moved by pity. He placed a comforting hand on top of her wrinkled and aged one. "The loss of the Priestesses was a very great blow to the Realms," he said sadly. "I know you are doing your best, but you can't possibly replace them all. If you'd like I can put out the word that you are looking for skilled young women to initiate into the the Guardianship of the Croí Foinse. The future would be dark indeed if you were to pass from this life and take the entire tradition with you."

Diona smiled gently at him and shook her head, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "That's very kind of you, Jareth, but that is too high a mountain for me to attempt to climb at my age. Someone else will undertake that task."

"But there isn't anyone else." Jareth furrowed his brow. Diona and her daughter had been the last… "Unless… your daughter?" He asked tentatively, almost afraid to bring it up. Diona's daughter had died, hadn't she?

"Deirdre left me many years ago. She took another name and lived her own life." Diona's face was sorrowful. "She fell ill and passed over to the next world years ago."

"I'm sorry," Jareth said, ashamed to have brought such painful memories to the surface.

Diona patted his hand. "No need to be sorry. She made her choices and I made mine. I've come to realize that we both did what we had to do. There will be someone to carry on the tradition of the Priestesses. Do not fret about that." She spoke with such conviction that Jareth could not doubt her, though he could not imagine who she was referring to. He decided to drop the subject for now. The kitchen was growing busier and he had work to do out in the Labyrinth.

* * *

Viggu stared sourly at the bright spot of light far above him. It appeared that the opening at the top of the shaft had once more opened. It wasn't always open. More often than not, there was nothing overhead but the same blackness that filled the small room he was in. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to when the light would appear. It made it difficult to mark time and he was starting to lose track. Had he been down there two weeks? Three? A month? It was hard to tell.

When the hobgoblins had cornered Viggu and the other orcs in the forest, he dashed behind a bush and squirmed deep into the thicket of thorns at the edge of the clearing. Like the coward that he was, he hid while the Goblin King's men cut down his companions. When the sounds of fighting faded, Viggu crawled out of his hiding place and ran as far and as fast as his legs could carry him. By nightfall, he had been far away from the scene of the bloody skirmish in the forest.

As the Labyrinth grew darker and darker around him, Viggu struggled to find his way out. But the high walls and ever changing passageways confused him. He eventually wandered into a dead end. Cursing with disgust he had turned away from the blank stone wall he had all but run into in the dark, only to find that the opening that he had just walked through had closed. Fighting panic, Viggu had closed his eyes and breathed deeply, hoping to calm himself and perhaps smell a way out. Instead, the overwhelming odor of the Bog of Eternal Stench assaulted his nostrils and he gagged slightly.

Viggu had taken just a few shuffling steps forward when the ground underneath his feet suddenly gave way and he fell. Luckily, there had been a pile of mouldy old straw at the bottom of the shaft he fell into, otherwise, he thought it likely that he would not have survived. As it was, he had several nasty bruises and perhaps a broken wrist and ankle. He was now deep underground, in an old, and clearly forgotten, oubliette.

At first he had looked for a way out, limping around his prison on his sore ankle. He used his good hand to feel around in the darker corners, hoping to feel a door… a handle… even a hole. But the walls and floor of the oubliette were solid, smooth rock. He did not find a single crack, much less an opening of any kind.

Near the pile of straw that had broken his fall, he stumbled into a small pool of water. It wasn't deep, he could just barely submerge his feet. At first, Viggu couldn't figure out where the water was coming from and he was hoping that it would lead to a way out. When he discovered that the source of the water was somewhere high up in the shaft through which he had fallen he shrieked in frustration and slammed the fist of his already injured arm against the floor next to him. He was rewarded with a sharp crack and a wave of pain. If he hadn't broken his wrist in the fall, he had surely done so now. Grinding his teeth against the pain, Viggu looked more closely at the water source, hopefully tracing its path as it fell into the oubliette. It trickled slowly down the wall of the shaft he had fallen down. He could not see its source. Once more, the orc howled, but this time in despair. There was no way out. His screams echoed through the small stone chamber and he covered his ears to block out the sound, curling up in the pile of straw.

As the days went by, he bitterly cursed the nyxie who had gotten him into this mess in the first place. If it hadn't been for that little pest, then he would never have been included in the raiding party in the first place. As he scrounged on the floor, searching for edible fungi he muttered to himself, "Fuckin' faery, rip off her wings and feed 'em to her. Her fault I'm here. Her fault!"

Despite his fear of Mathyn, he eventually began to curse the name of the Fae as well as that of the nyxie. If Chiara was the cause of his current situation, then in Viggu's mind, Mathyn was the agent of his suffering. He became convinced that Mathyn knew where he was, and was watching and enjoying his struggle to survive in the dank environment. Viggu regularly vacillated between begging the Fae for release and cursing him for tormenting him.

The feeling of being watched never seemed to leave the orc. Neither did the stench of the Bog. It was at times when the stench was strongest that the feeling of being watched was nearly unbearable. There was nowhere in the oubliette to hide. So Viggu huddled in a corner, trembling and terrified as the unseen eyes bored into him.

Time passed slowly in the hole and Viggu's mind, never strong to begin with, began to crack under the strain. His obsession with Chiara and Mathyn were the only things that kept him from sliding into gibbering madness. As he crept around the confines of his prison during those times when the sensation of being watched lessened, he searched for any unwary bugs or rodents that had the misfortune to end up in the oubliette. As he did, he amused himself thinking up new and inventive ways to exact his revenge on them. In his few moments of clarity, he dreamed of escaping the deathtrap he was ensnared in. But those moments of clarity rapidly dwindled. Between the hunger and the unseen presence that tormented him he began to feel that madness was an escape and he welcomed it.

So he glared up at the bright point of light that marked the opening of the shaft above the oubliette. He didn't know how long he had been there, and couldn't remember the last time his mind had been clear, but the stench of the Bog continued to to torment him. Even now, he could tell that it was returning. Viggu retreated once more to his corner, whimpering as the smell once more filled the chamber. It seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

* * *

Naida stumbled along behind the three friends in a daze. It had been several days since they had left Hoggle's house. Their intention had been to seek out Diona in the Castle Beyond the Goblin City. Somehow, the journey to the castle was taking far longer than any of them had anticipated. She had not seen any water since the previous night and the sun was now high in sky. If she didn't get to some water soon, she was going to become too dehydrated to continue.

Ahead of her, Hoggle and Didymus conferred in low voices. Several times now, they had been forced to turn back when the passages forward were blocked. Once they had run into a passage filled from top to bottom with thick, sticky webs. The bones and skin of several creatures that had been unfortunate enough to stumble into the trap could be seen, still hanging by the sticky threads. The four travelers beat a hasty retreat, not wanting to meet the creature responsible for spinning those webs. It had taken them most of a day to find a way around that mess.

Dimly, Niada caught pieces of the argument between Didymus and Hoggle.

"... has to have water…"

"Not that way ya overly honorable blockhead…"

"But we can…"

"That'll take  _days_."

"... can't go on like this…"

As Niada approached, Hoggle and Didymus stopped arguing rather abruptly. "How ya doin', little miss?" Hoggle asked, concern clearly visibly on his wrinkled face. Naida had found that Hoggle was far more soft hearted than she had supposed. He seemed to always be the one looking after her, despite their adversarial past. While she appreciated that he was worried about her, she simply didn't have the energy to deal with any of them at the moment. Her entire focus was on finding water.

Not bothering to reply, Naida sniffed the air for a moment. She could smell something wet. It wasn't likely to be very large, but it was definitely water. She brightened and took a few steps down the passage that held the promise of water, however little of it there might be.

"My Lady of the Water!" Didymus called. "Where are you going?"

"I can smell water," she rasped through parched lips.

Both Hoggle and Didymus looked skeptical. "I don't remember any water in that direction," Hoggle objected. Ludo hovered uncertainly in the background, not sure who to follow but agitated by the constant bickering amongst the group.

"Nor do I," Didymus admitted. "However, his Majesty's cleaning and repair crews have recently penetrated far further into the Labyrinth than you might think, Brother Hoggle."

"So what'd they do? Conjure a pond where there was none before?"

"That is doubtful, Brother." Didymus replied placidly. "But the work crews must carry some measure of water with them."

Naida took a few more steps and the smell grew slightly stronger. "There's water over there," she insisted. "Not a lot, but still…"

Didymus and Ludo moved to join her in the passage. A few seconds later, a grumbling Hoggle did the same. Ordinarily she would have made a smart alec remark about Hoggle being slow, but the effort that it would require was too much of a drain on her already diminishing energy.

After several minutes of walking, they began to notice that there was less debris on the ground in this part of the Labyrinth than there had been over the past couple of days. While the walls were still pockmarked with holes from fallen bricks, the bricks themselves were nowhere in sight. Even the few plants that still struggled to grow in the dying Labyrinth looked slightly healthier here.

"I'd say some sort of cleanup has been goin' on here." Hoggle remarked, looking around. No sooner had he spoken than the four travelers heard voices ahead of them. Rounding a corner, they came face to face with a crowd of elves and humans gathered around a barrel, cups in hand.

All talking and banter died down as the two groups sized each other up. Naida barely noticed. Her attention was firmly locked on the barrel. She could smell the water in it. "Please," she whispered. "Please, I need some water."

There was a pause. One of the workmen scowled. "Hey! Aren't you that unaligned rusalka that lives outside the Labyrinth's walls?" He glared at her and stepped in front of the barrel of water, blocking her view of it.

Niada could have cried, if she'd had any moisture left for such an indulgence. To be so close to the water, yet have it withheld was practically torture.

"So what if she is!" Hoggle exclaimed, moving to the front of their group, and into full view of the work crew. The eyes of the workers widened at the sight of the irritable and well known Guardian. "Can't ya see the poor girl's nearly dead from lack of water?"

"But Hoggle!" The workman who had spoken before protested. "She's unaligned! She could be dangerous. What if she's here to do harm to his Majesty? How did you get so close to his work area without being seen?" He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the group of travelers.

"His Majesty is near?" Didymus asked with some excitement. Naida practically groaned. She couldn't deal with Jareth right now.

"Do ya want me to summon 'im?" Hoggle asked. He stepped closer to the workman that was giving them a hard time. The workman backed up, looking uncertain.

Another workman dipped a fresh cup into the barrel and handed it to Niada with a dirty look for his comrade. She immediately began gulping the water down as fast as she could, not bothering to be ladylike about it.

The relief, while small compared to her overall state of dehydration, was heavenly. When the cup was empty, she passed it back, only to find it quickly refilled and offered again. Naida smiled her thanks at the human workman who had kindly refilled the cup, then dismissed him from her notice. Instead she turned her attention to the feeling of relief and pleasure in her throat and mouth caused by the cool water.

She had just finished the second cup when Jareth's voice startled her. "What is this? Hoghead, what are you doing here?"

Hoggle quailed under Jareth's gaze and shot a reproachful glance at Sir Didymus, who shrugged. "I thought it would be wise to summon His Majesty, considering the condition of the maiden."

Naida stood still as Jareth's eyes turned toward her. Although the water had helped, she was still dangerously dried out and she felt very close to passing out as a result. Dealing with Jareth was not really something she would ordinarily have welcomed, but in this case, she was actually somewhat glad to see him.

Jareth raised an eyebrow. "What brings you into my Labyrinth?"

"I need to see Diona."

"Really?" Jareth looked concerned and Naida hoped that her willingness to leave her pond as well as her current condition would speak to the urgency of her journey. The last thing she wanted to do right now was convince a cantankerous King that she was having visions.

She swayed on her feet and would have fallen if it had not been for the solid and comforting presence of Ludo, who had thoughtfully moved up behind her. Leaning against the rock caller, Niada braced herself and turned to smile her thanks at him. It was hard to tell, but she thought that Ludo smiled back. She turned back to find Jareth still looking at her consideringly. She met his gaze head on and was rewarded with a quick nod.

"Very well. I will take you. Your… companions," Jareth paused to look pointedly over at Hoggle, Didymus, and Ludo. "They may follow behind. You do not look like you are in any condition to make the rest of the journey to the castle on foot." He stretched out his gloved hand, his cloak stirring in the errant breeze the trickled through the corridors.

Gratefully, Naida took his hand and the world faded away as he transported her to the castle.

* * *

Diona was in the castle library, reading an old book on the Labyrinth and hoping to find some clue as to where it might have taken Sarah when a hobgoblin maiden knocked respectfully on the door.

"Yes?" Diona called.

"Visitor for you, Revered Priestess." The Hobgoblin girls voice was low and husky, but not unpleasant. Her manner was respectful, almost bordering on reverent as she spoke. "His Majesty says that you had better attend to her quickly."

"Is Jareth with her?"

"No Priestess, he returned to his work in the Labyrinth as soon as he dropped her off in the medical wing."

Diona stood, half alarmed and half hopeful that Sarah had been found. As she followed the servant through the corridors, toward the medical wing, she tried to question the girl about the visitor.

"I'm sorry, Revered Priestess, I don't have any other information." The girl blushed, turning her greenish skin a darker shade of olive and looked away.

Diona sighed. "Don't fret, my dear. I will find out soon enough."

The hobgoblin led her to the door of the medical offices and then left, dropping an elegant curtsey as she did so. Diona pushed open the door and entered the room.

Alex smiled when Diona entered the healers domain. "His Majesty just dropped her off," the healer said, pointing to a room off to the side. "I have put her in the bathtub. She is extremely dehydrated. I'm amazed that she made it this far."

The healer led Diona over to the door while offering this explanation and knocked. A faint reply was heard and the dark elf pushed the door open.

"Naida!" Diona exclaimed in surprise. She hadn't been sure what to expect. Although she was somewhat disappointed that Sarah had not been found, she was glad to see the rusalka. Upon closer inspection, Diona was shocked at her condition. Her hair was dry and brittle and her skin was flaking off in large strips. Her usually sparkling green eyes were dull and her lips had cracked and bled. Overall, Diona thought that she looked like some undead creature.

She turned to Alex with an inquiring look.

"She will survive," the healer assured her. "Although, she certainly cut it very close." Alex's thin lips compressed into a tight line. "A few more hours and I would have been hard pressed to bring her back. Not much in the way of ordinary events can generally harm a Rusalka, but lack of water will kill one quicker than anything else. She tells me that she had been out of the water for nearly twenty-four hours."

Diona turned to the rusalka, horrified. "What in the world made you do this, Naida?"

The water nymph sighed. "It's a long story Diona." She flicked a glance at the healer before ducking her head briefly under the water.

Understanding her meaning, Diona turned to the healer, only to find the elf already slipping out the door. Their eyes met briefly and they both smiled, the healer in understanding and Diona in thanks.

As the door closed behind the Chief Healer, Naida spoke quietly. "Thank you."

Diona pulled a chair up beside the bathtub and sat, "Now, tell me why you nearly killed yourself trying to get to me."

The rusalka looked rather abashed for a moment. Diona nodded encouragingly and the young nymph launched into her story. When she told Diona that she was having visions, the old woman had to ask her to repeat herself, sure that her aging ears had misheard.

"I've had visions, Diona. Horrible ones. They come without warning and they completely take over my body. I can't escape them." Naida shuddered, causing ripples to spread across the surface of the large tub she reclined in.

Diona leaned forward and grasped the rusalkas hand in an iron grip. "Tell me!" she demanded eagerly.

Diona listened as the Rusalka recounted the visions that had come to her. As she spoke, the Priestess could not help but feel elation, despite the seriousness of the situation. The young rusalka was a Seherin, a seer... and a powerful one at that! Even when she had been a child, the order of the Seherin had all but died out. Diona could remember only one. A white haired old crone who used to sit by the Croí Foinse and stare into the water, unmoving for hours or even days at a time. As a small girl, she had used to bring the Priestess small treats, although she never saw the woman eat a single one of them.

After the water nymph finished speaking, Diona was silent for a moment, pondering the importance of everything she had just been told. Pushing the visions aside, she focused instead on the young Seherin before her. "You must not fear the visions. It is a gift that you bear, not a curse, although you may sometimes regard it thus. Don't be afraid, I will help you." She squeezed Naida's hand reassuringly and sat back in her chair, shifting slightly to ease her muscles, which were starting to cramp from having held one position too long.

"So, this is not going to go away, is it?" Naida asked softly.

"No my dear, but it can get easier, although it will require work and dedication on your part." Diona held her breath. She could not  _force_  the rusalka into the life of a Seherin. She had to come willingly, or not at all.

A tear slipped down Naida's face and Diona felt a pang of pity for the water nymph. The path that she had been set upon would not be easy.

"What will happen if I just go home?" Naida asked, her voice catching slightly as she held back further tears.

Diona regarded her gravely. "The visions will continue. Some who have refused the calling have gone mad, others have lived in fear, never knowing when another vision will overtake them. None ever reported that the visions lessened or became easier to bear. With the proper training and guidance, you can learn to anticipate and decipher the visions. They will no longer rule you, but rather, you will rule them."

With a sigh, the rusalka nodded. "Very well. When will we begin?"

"Just as soon as you are healed," Diona told her, trying to contain her feelings of exaltation. "Tomorrow, we will go to Foinse Abbey and begin."

Niada's eyes grew wide at the mention of home of the Priestesses. "Will I see the Croí Foinse?"

"Most definitely." Diona confirmed as she rose and made her way to the door. "You get your rest, now. I want you healed by tomorrow!"

As she exited the medical wing, Diona ruminated on the good fortune that had just befallen them.  _There has not been a Seer like her in centuries_ _,_  Diona thought  _If there ever was one at all. To have a Seer that is also a rusalka was an unheard of combination. I must be on the right track, to have such a powerful and important gift dropped into my lap like this._

Diona made her way to the lowest recesses of the castle, heading for the Abbey complex in the cavern below. She suddenly had a great deal of research to do in preparation for the first young woman to join the order in almost a thousand years.  _And to think, just this morning I told Jareth that I was not going to be the one to begin rebuilding the Order._  Diona chuckled. _Never give the Fates a chance to prove you wrong..._


	19. Moving On

**Disclaimer -**  You all know the score by now... we don't own anything or profit from anything. We just wanna dance the magic dance.

**Warning**  - At first I didn't think this chapter was going to need one of these. Then I remembered... Brothel scenes ahead with insinuated violence and adult themes. Just a couple of paragraphs though, nothing too egregious.

* * *

"Are you alright?" Adelina's heavily accented voice asked.

Sarah looked up at the centaur girl who was towering over her as she sprawled on the ground, knocked there by a heavy blow from a bo staff. Her mind had wandered again. Giving herself a mental shake, Sarah tried to smile. "I'm fine," she said, grimacing as she pressed a hand to her aching side and tried to catch her breath.

"Maybe we should stop for the day," Adelina suggested. Despite her desire to prove herself to the clan, Sarah couldn't help but agree. She hadn't felt like she was really connecting to what was going on around her since her dream about Jareth a few nights back.

Her mind began to drift to the feel of his hands in her hair, his arms around her, the sound of his heartbeat… With a mental jerk, Sarah pulled her mind back from the treacherous thoughts. It seemed that they were always lurking just on the edge of her conscious mind the past few days, waiting to take over the minute she let her guard down.  _Stop it, Sarah_ , she chided herself.  _You know that this only leads to pain. You refused him and there is no way that you are going to get a second chance, even if you wanted it._ It had been several nights since she had called on Jareth in her dreams, and each night since she had gone to bed both hoping and dreading a repeat. Each morning, she woke with a sense of regret that was stronger than the day before. Even if she wouldn't admit it to herself, Sarah was mourning. Not the loss of Jareth himself, but the loss of what might have been.

"Saraaaah! Come back to us Sarah…"

With a start, Sarah brought her mind back to the present to find Adelina and several others looking at her oddly. "Sorry, what?" Sarah asked.

"Are we done for the day?" Adelina repeated.

"Oh, yeah." Sarah groaned as she climbed to her feet. She was going to have one heck of a bruise on her side from impact of the staff.

Adelina nodded and gathered Sarah's staff from where it had fallen to the ground. As the centaurs all drifted away, Sarah started back to her tent. Although it was only early afternoon, Sarah was contemplating just giving up and going to bed. She quickly dismissed that idea when she walked into camp and noticed that it was abuzz with activity. Families appeared to be packing up their belongings, leaving only essential items out for the night. In the distance, Sarah could see that even Samoth's tent was being emptied and his wagon loaded.

Breaking into a run, Sarah headed for her own tent. Poking her head in, she discovered that it was untouched. Concerned, she went looking for Elder Samoth. She found him overseeing the breakdown of his table.

"Samoth!"

He turned to her and smiled. "Sarah, it is good to see you."

"You're leaving," Sarah blurted out.

Samoth looked at her with some surprise. "It's time to move on to better grazing for the herds. We have stayed far longer in this place than we usually do." Samoth looked at her closely. "I thought I mentioned this to you yesterday."

Sarah flushed, thinking back and trying to remember the conversation. Had she truly been so wrapped up in her own feelings that she had missed something so important? Was she that out of touch? With a mental snort of disgust, Sarah thought,  _T_ _his stops **now**_. She couldn't afford to keep wallowing in her own self pity if it meant that she was going to miss important things like this.

"Am I still welcome?" Sarah asked, glancing back in the direction of her own tent.

Samoth followed her gaze and smiled. "Do you even need to ask? We didn't want to assume that you would be joining us, nor did we want to meddle with your belongings uninvited."

"I don't have a wagon…" Sarah trailed off uncertainly. The logistics of being the only human traveling with the nomadic centaurs suddenly hitting her. How was she ever going to keep up with the clan?

Samoth patted her shoulder sympathetically. "Do not worry. Many of the things in your tent came from my personal wagon to begin with. You will travel with me." He chuckled. "It will give you a chance to learn even more about the Underground. Don't look so worried, child. Cattle do not always move as quickly as you fear. I am sure that we will be able to come up with a way to keep you with us. I travel primarily in my wagon. Like you, I am not able to keep up with the youngsters for long distances."

Sarah sighed in relief. She didn't fancy running along behind the clan. "Where will we go?" She asked.

"South," Samoth replied. "South and east, to warmer places, before the snow begins to fall too heavily."

* * *

Ethan shifted in his saddle and patted the neck of his horse. Despite an inordinate amount of time spent searching, he'd had no luck in locating the girl. It was as if this Sarah had vanished into thin air. He and the army had scoured the Labyrinth, both the parts that had recently been repaired and the parts that were still crumbling into ruins. The only thing that they had to show for their efforts was the startling revelation that the closer one got the the Bog of Eternal Stench, the worse the damage was.

After the Labyrinth had been scoured for the third time, Ethan had widened the search, practically going door to door throughout the kingdom. At first, the citizenry had been helpful, even eager to serve the General and his search squads. Their enthusiasm waned after the second or third visit from such a search party. Ethan had begun to hear muttering about the inconvenience and hardship that the frequent searches were causing during the last few days of harvest. The last time he had entered some of the larger towns with a squad of hobgoblins to conduct a search, he had been met with hard stares and cold shoulders.

Sighing, he turned his attention back to the drills of the infantry division in front of him. He didn't need to be here, overseeing such a mundane activity, but he had needed a distraction from the frustrating search. Diona was getting extremely worried and Ethan was beginning to wonder if Sarah was nothing more than a figment of their imagination. He had yet to see any physical evidence that she had ever set foot Underground again.

A bellow from a hard bitten Sergeant caught his attention. "Naw you oaf! Pay attention to your footing! Move like that and you'll find yourself sliced in half by the man next to you before you can even take a swing at the enemy! Yes! Better… Hold your shield like this…. Good!"

Seeing that the situation was well in hand, Ethan turned his mount and headed to another practice field, where several platoons of veteran Hobgoblins were sparring with each other. Soon, he would have to return to the Labyrinth to report to Jareth. At least he would have good news to report about the growing size and skill of the army, even if he had nothing new to report regarding the whereabouts of Sarah. Privately, Ethan still thought it likely that Sarah was an agent for Mathyn. What else could explain her complete disappearance after the raid into the Labyrinth? Mathyn must have taken her with him. It was a logical assumption. Unfortunately, it was not one that was shared by the King or the Priestess, both of whom continued to insist that Sarah was in danger, rather than viewing her as a threat. Ethan had all but given up on trying to convince them otherwise.

The General was on the last leg of his inspection circuit through the forts that housed the bulk of the Goblin Kingdom's army. The sheer size of the army precluded garrisoning more than a company or two in the Goblin City itself. The bulk of the army remained outside the Labyrinth, quartered in various forts positioned around the edge of the two mile buffer zone that surrounded the Labyrinth's walls. The forts were really one large, interconnected complex, thanks to the subterranean passages that honeycombed the no man's land. Every fort contained a permanent portal that led back to the Goblin City. For security's sake, no one portal remained active for more than a few days. In an emergency, either Ethan or Jareth could deactivate every single one of them from the Master portal in the Goblin City.

After silently watching the Hobgoblins for a few more minutes, Ethan moved on. He had one more field to view before heading back to his office. There was always paperwork to complete at every fort. He had underlings who took care of most of the day to day nonsense, but there were some things that only he could handle. Reports from the battalions that he had sent north and east to guard the borders, for instance. Although things had been quiet, Ethan was aware of the increasing raids on their neighbors. The fact that the Labyrinth itself was infiltrated by orcs was proof enough that they couldn't afford to be complacent any longer.

Ethan spurred his horse into a gallop, needing to blow off some steam. He was edgy; not just because of his disagreement with Jareth regarding the girl, but also because they all knew that war was likely. Although he was no unblooded boy, having fought against orc raiders alongside Jareth in their younger years, Ethan did not relish the idea of facing a horde of the creatures. He was, largely, a quiet and patient man. Although his role as the Chief military officer in the Goblin Kingdom suited him, there had been a time, many years ago, that he had dreamed of another life altogether.

_Deirdre…_  The name drifted through his mind, pulling old memories to the forefront. Despite the differences in their ages, Ethan had been smitten with the dark haired beauty from the first time he had seen her. He had been all of ten years old and sure that he could find a way to make her love him. He hadn't cared that she was several hundred years his senior and was frequently pressed into service as babysitter and tutor to himself and Jareth. In his mind, she was the perfect woman, and someday, he was determined that she would see it as well.

She had left Fialis when he was in his early teens. Now, as an adult, he understood that she had left to give him the space he needed to get over his crush. But at the time, her leaving had felt like a betrayal. Over the years, his juvenile infatuation had slowly given way to a deep affection. By the time he had reached his mid twenties, Ethan understood that she would never love him in the way he wished. Still, he had been bitter for far longer than he should have been.

Around the time that Jareth won the Goblin throne and asked Ethan to be his chief military officer, Deirdre vanished. Diona then dropped out of the public eye, leaving him with no way of contacting either of them. Ethan had not seen Deirdre since she left the capital, and he always regretted that his bitterness had kept him from seeing her one last time. News of her death had saddened, but not devastated, him. Although he would always remember her fondly, he had long ago moved on. Regardless, he liked to pull out the memories every now and then and dust them off. She was still the standard by which he measured all of the women who came into his life.

As his horse slowed, lathered from the gallop, Ethan turned his attention back to the task at hand. He was approaching a field that was set up as an archery range. Here, a mix of elven and human archers sent yard long arrows arcing across the field and into the straw targets set up at the opposite end. By the look of the targets, this batch of recruits was fairly new.

Ethan swung down from his horse and approached the Sergeant overseeing the recruits. "Looks like you've got your work cut out for you, eh Nessa?"

The elven woman turned to him with a grin. "That I do General. This lot only started training last week."

Both turned and watched the recruits let fly with another flight. "Will they be any good?" Ethan asked.

Nessa laughed lightly. "It's my job to  _make_  them good, regardless of their natural talent… or lack thereof," she added drily, all traces of laughter leaving her voice. Both observers noted how few arrows found their mark. "Move the targets up," she yelled to a team of workers at the far end of the field.

One of the workers raised a horn to his lips and blew several blasts. The archers lowered their bows and took a knee, waiting while the targets were moved closer. Beside him, Nessa rolled her eyes. "You have no idea how long it took to teach them the meaning of the horn blasts."

Ethan chuckled. "Yes, well, you always turn out more than passable soldiers, Nessa. I'm sure that you will have this lot whipped into shape before I return."

"Nearly finished your rounds?" she asked knowingly.

"Unfortunately," he replied. He turned from the field to make his way back to his horse. Nessa walked with him.

"Really? You are usually quite pleased to finish." She glanced at him and one eyebrow quirked up. "Not looking forward to reporting to the King?"

"Not really."

"Bad news or no news?" she pressed, knowing, as did everyone in the kingdom, about the search for Sarah.

"No news." Ethan said glumly. "Jareth is not going to be pleased." He swung himself back up onto the horse, settling comfortably into the saddle.

"He'll live," Nessa told him. From the field, another series of horn blasts indicated the the targets had been moved and the archers could resume their practice. Nessa glanced quickly back over her shoulder and then offered Ethan a quick salute. "Duty calls, General. Don't let Jareth ride you too hard!"

With that parting shot, Nessa turned and jogged back to the field, yelling instructions to the new recruits as she went. Ethan smiled at her retreating form and turned his horse back toward the fort. It was time to head back.

* * *

Chiara and Katie were camped within sight of Allanar's grey, moss covered walls. This should have been good news, but Chiara had other things to worry about. Katie had all but shut down since her ordeal at the hands of Mathyn. The human woman had spent the last several days moving in a daze, when Chiara could get her to move at all. After the first night, Chiara had been forced to abandon their established routine of sleeping during the day and traveling after dark. Several near accidents had led Chiara to determine that Katie was too out of touch with the world around her to be able to travel at night. In addition to Katie's general detachment, Chiara had seen neither food nor water pass her companion's lips in several days, despite the nyxie's repeated attempts to get her to eat the plum brought back from Above. Each morning, it took longer and longer for Chiara to convince Katie that they needed to get moving. She knew that the mortal woman must be nearing the end of her endurance.

When they arrived in the vicinity of Allanar yesterday afternoon, Chiara had decided that they had better make camp outside the city for the night, rather than enter right away. Although they really didn't have any time to waste, Chiara was reluctant to enter the city with Katie in the condition that she was in. She was hoping that she would be able to snap the human woman out of this all consuming depression that she seemed to have fallen into.

The sun was well up, but Katie still showed no signs of moving. Chaira was flying impatiently around their campsite, not really sure what to do. She couldn't exactly go anywhere, considering the consequences of straying too far from Katie, but she didn't really have anything to do in the camp either.

Stopping next to the still sleeping woman, Katie grabbed her hair and pulled. "Katie!" she shrilled. When that failed to arouse her companion, she shrieked again, right in her ear." Get up! We have to go!" Chiara was getting very nervous. They were wasting their time. She had no desire to attract the attention of her master for disobedience.

Katie merely mumbled "Go 'way," and swatted at Chiara like she was nothing more than an obnoxious fly.

Chiara's nerves, combined with her irritation at being treated like nothing more than a pest, got the better of her. Landing next to Katie, she took a deep breath and sank her sharp teeth into the sleeping girl's arm.

Katie shot upright with a yelp, brushing wildly at her sluggishly bleeding arm. Chaira had prudently let go almost as soon as she bit down, knowing that Katie would not react well. The bite of a nyxie was nothing to sneeze at.

"You little bitch!" Katie yelled. "That hurt! What did you have to do that for?" Chiara easily dodged the several sticks and stones that Katie hurled at her and waited for the girl to calm down slightly before speaking again.

"Katie," she said seriously. "You have got to snap out of it. We are running out of time."

"Why bother," grunted Katie turning away.

"Are you seriously going to give up like this? Really?" Katie made no reply. She didn't even turn around. Instead, she ignored Chiara and prepared to lie back down.

"I swear to the Fates that I'll bite you again if you lie down," Chiara threatened.

Katie swung around to face her again, despair written across her face. "What's the point? How can I possibly win against a being like him?"

"Cleverly," Katie answered. Her voice took on a harsh tone as she continued. "You think you are the only person to have suffered at his hands? I was barely more than a child when I came across him. He used vile, tainted magic to bind me to his service. He put a slave collar on me!" Chiara shrieked, advancing on the human woman and tugging at the black metal collar around her neck.

Katie's eyes widened as Chiara continued. "There is rarely a day when I don't expect to die at his hands, but I haven't given up, because there is always hope. I refuse to let him win. If we work together, we might someday both win free of him. Nothing is ever completely as it seems in this world."

Katie narrowed her eyes. "How can I trust you?" she spat. "You've been his little pet all along, leading me down the primrose path, all the while following an agenda that I knew nothing about. I came here with the understanding that I was doing a good thing, helping to find my friend. The more time I spend in this world, the more convinced I am that Sarah should stay lost!"

Chiara didn't immediately reply. What could she say? Katie was right. She  _was_  still following an agenda that Katie was not privy to. Chaira did not know what her master had planned for Sarah when he found her, but she was sure that it wasn't going to be pleasant. Katie had been brought there under false pretenses, and now, for all intents and purposes, she was stuck here.

Chiara eventually sighed heavily. You probably shouldn't trust me," she told Katie, who looked taken aback by the frank admission. Chiara continued. "From the very beginning, you've known that I worked for him. Not one choice that I have made since you met me hasn't been tainted by the knowledge that, if I make a mistake, it could very well be the last thing I do. I've felt the very same pain that you endured at his hands, too many times to count. You shouldn't trust me, because there is nothing…  _nothing_  that I won't do to avoid that pain again.

Katie started to scowl but Chiara hurried on. "You shouldn't trust me," she repeated again. "But I'm asking you to do it anyway. We can help each other. Before I met you, I would never have defied my master and gone Above. Not even for my own mother. Perhaps I've finally gone crazy, or maybe I'm just getting soft, but I honestly believe that if we work together, we have a better chance of surviving than we would individually."

"You are asking an awful lot, Chiara. You're here begging me to trust you, but for all I know, this is just an act, designed to get me to cooperate further. You are right, I  _do_  know that you have been working for him from the very beginning. I just didn't understand before what that meant. Now that I do understand, I am having a very hard time reconciling that knowledge with the Chiara that I've come to know since I came. It's like you're two different people." Katie crossed her arms and glared.

Chiara shifted uncomfortably. Katie was not very far off the mark. She certainly felt conflicted enough to be two different people. When it was just her and Katie, traveling together, she felt like a very different person from the scared, groveling little nyxie that she had become over the years. There was nothing she could say to that, so she just shrugged her shoulders.

Katie continued, "And now you expect me to continue to look for Sarah, knowing what I do? How can I do that? I can't turn her over to that monster, but you said yourself that I can't trust you not to do it. You'd hand her over to the devil himself if it meant that you could save your own skin!"

Once again, there was nothing Chiara could say to that. It was true. She was willing to do practically anything to avoid punishment and gain her freedom. She sighed. She was beginning to realize that she didn't like the person she had become.

Katie ran her hands through her short hair, chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip. "I don't really have a choice, do I? I mean, we're stuck together. The Goblin King made sure of that." Chiara nodded sympathetically but Katie waved her hand, dismissing the gesture. "I do, however, believe what you say about the choices you have made. I may not have a choice about sticking with you, and I may not have any choice about continuing to look for Sarah, but I'm sure as hell not going to blindly trust you like I did before."

Chiara sighed again, "Katie…" she paused, wondering what she could say to fix this.  _At least she isn't completely sunk in depression anymore_ , Chiara thought, looking at the angry woman across from her. If it took being angry at her to pull Katie out of her funk and get her moving, Chiara supposed that she was just going to have to accept it.

"What?" Katie snapped.

Chiara realized that Katie was expecting her to speak and she struggled to come up with something to say. "You're angry, and I get that. You should be angry. You should be furious with me; but you should be even more enraged with him. I'm not the one who pulled you down here. I'm not the one who threatened you, or locked you into this arrangement. We have to work together. Both of us have been trapped by my master and now we have no one to rely on but each other."

"Argh!" Katie yelled, startling the nyxie into flight. "See, right there. You can't always play the victim!"

Chiara slowly settled back down to the ground and Katie continued, "If you want me to trust you again, you have to start owning your choices and you've got to stop keeping me in the dark." Katie threw her blankets to one side and began angrily gathering her things and stuffing them into her bag. Chiara watched silently, wondering what the woman meant to do when she was done.

Katie finished haphazardly packing her bag and turned to face Chiara once more. She no longer looked angry and the nyxie was unsure if that was a good sign or not. "I need to know that you are on my side, Chiara," she said softly.

Chiara's mouth popped open for a moment before she snapped it closed. Whose side  _was_  she on? For all her talk about working together, Chiara still very much thought in terms of her own self preservation. If she was going to be brutally honest, she wasn't on anyone's side. She looked out for herself. Still, it couldn't hurt to tell Katie what she wanted to hear.

"I am on your side, Katie. We are both in the same position." Katie narrowed her eyes and looked slightly suspicious, but she seemed to accept Chiara's words.

"So, no more secrets?"

"No more secrets," Chiara agreed. She was surprised to find that she felt bad for lying. There were things that she simply couldn't tell her companion, no matter how bad she felt. She wasn't going to risk both their necks just to correct a few misconceptions the mortal woman still held. Chiara didn't see how it could possibly change anything now for Katie to know that Mathyn wasn't really the Goblin King. It wasn't as though they were likely to run into Jareth, and if it kept Katie suspicious of the nobility, then so much the better. Chiara would continue to lie if she thought it would keep them safe.

"And we will talk about what happens, if and when we find Sarah," Katie said, shooting her a meaningful look. "Agreed?"

Chiara nodded curtly and Katie rummaged around in the food sack for a moment before pulling out a crusty roll. Chiara squeaked slightly in dismay, causing the mortal woman to pause. "It's all right, Chiara. I would say that the choice has pretty much been made for me at this point. There is no point in starving if I am stuck here anyway."

"But…"

Katie cut her off. "It's not like I can go home," she reminded the nyxie bitterly. "The Goblin King has me trapped as surely as if I had already eaten faery food. In for a penny, in for pound."

"What?" Chiara asked, confused by the mortal expression.

"It means that if I am going to have to do this, I might as well go all in," Katie told her, grabbing the roll and tearing off a bite before Chiara could stop her. She watched sadly as her friend chewed and swallowed her first bite of faery food. The moment felt very final, and Chiara wondered if Katie felt the same way.

"Hey!" Katie exclaimed. "This is really good."

"Did you expect it to taste bad?" Chiara asked.

"I don't know what I expected, actually." Quickly, Katie finished the roll and reached for some cheese. "Aren't you going to eat? We have to get moving. As you said, we are running out of time."

"I ate," Chiara said quietly.

* * *

The sun was beginning its descent into the west when Katie and Chiara slipped into the city behind a merchant's pack train. Chiara was very alert as she scanned the crowds. Allanar was always a bustling place and the night faerie hoped to blend in with the crowds as much as possible. The last thing the two of them wanted was to attract attention. There were very few humans about, and most of those that they could see were engaged in menial tasks as servants and other low class workers. "Keep your hood up," she cautioned her companion from her place on top of Katie's newly disguised backpack. Chiara had convinced Katie to cover her very alien looking bag with some cloth from the bags they had acquired from the wagoneers. Then she managed to perform some minor magic to meld the cloth onto the bag, making it look at least marginally like it might have been made in the Underground.

"Go left," she hissed in the human womans ear as they came to an intersection. Katie obliged, turning left, away from what looked to be the main thoroughfare through the city. Whispering directions in Katie's ear, Chiara guided them away from the classier portions of the city. As they moved deeper and deeper into the slums of the Wood Elven capital, Chiara worried less and less about Katie being recognized as human. Although some of the back alley denizens might be able to detect the faint trace of mortality, most couldn't, and wouldn't care anyway even if they could.

"Stop." Chiara said, flying up from the backpack to perch on a stack of crumbling crates next to a rundown looking pub.

"What are we doing here?" Katie asked, looking around with wide eyes, a grimace of disgust slowly spreading across her features as she took in the details of their surroundings.

Chiara scanned the street before turning her attention back to Katie. "This pub is owned by an elf that regularly hosts some of the city's worst criminals."

Katie looked horrified. "So what are we doing here?"

Chiara snorted. "They might be criminals, but they are also one of the best sources of information about what is going on in the Realms. If anyone knows where Sarah is likely to be, it will be them. Watch your step though, they are likely to find you interesting and worthy of their attention. I can't be the only agent out there looking for Sarah."

"So how are we supposed to get the information we need if I have to stay anonymous?"

"I know the owner. I'll get him to ask the right questions. All we will have to do is sit in some out of the way corner and listen to the conversation," Chiara told her. Katie sighed but said nothing.

Chiara flew around the crates and into the alley next to the pub, beckoning Katie to follow her. When Katie was safely in the alley, Chiara said, "Stay here and stay out of sight. I'll go talk to the owner. With any luck I'll be back in a few minutes and we can go inside and stake out a good spot."

The pub owner was not pleased to be roused from his drunken snooze behind the bar. Chiara badgered him until he stood and glared at her. "Whad'ya want, pest? I thought I told'ya that ya wasn't ever t'wake me."

Chiara rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah Robbie. Listen, I need you to do something for me and a friend."

"S'Rob," he muttered testily. "What'm I gonna get outta this?"

"My undying gratitude," Chiara told him sweetly.

Rob belched loudly. "Though'I already had it, after the last favor I did'ya."

Chiara sighed and fluttered her wings at him. "I'll make sure that there's extra coins in your till at the end of the night. Sound fair?"

Rob grunted. "Fine, b'keep your tiny hands off'a tha impor'nt purses," he warned. "Last thing I need is ta lose my import'nt clients 'cause they got their coins pinched in my bar."

"Yes, yes, the important ones, I got it. When have I ever caused you problems?" Chiara asked, rolling her eyes. "All I'm asking you to do is ask a few specific questions and position me and my friend in a place where we can hear the answers. In return, I'll make sure that you get some extra coins from your other customers."

Rob grunted. "Fine." He looked around. "S'where's this friend a yours?"

"Around the side. I'll get her. Then we'll talk about those questions I need you to ask."

Rob grunted and Chiara zipped out the back door.

* * *

Several hours later, Katie was sitting in a poorly lit corner of the bar, not too far away from a table of well dressed patrons who, notwithstanding their fine clothing, still managed to look somehow disreputable. Katie kept her hood up and her head down as she listened. Chiara was flitting around the room, listening to various conversations and picking pockets. Katie disapproved of the thievery, but had been overruled by the pub's owner, who told her bluntly that if she expected his help, then he was going to get something out of it. His overly friendly leer had convinced her to keep her to drop the issue.

She looked down at the clothing that Chiara had found for her. They had decided that is was wise for Katie to blend in as much as she could. To that end, Katie was now dressed like several of the other human women she had seen: tight pants and a long tunic, topped with a fitted leather vest. A nondescript grey cloak with a deep hood allowed her to hide her human features. In the few hours that she had been in the city, Katie had seen things that really made her understand Chiara's insistence on not drawing attention to herself. Humans were treated only slightly better than highly valued pets here, and she had no wish to experience that for herself.

She shrank back a little more and clutched her mug of bad beer tighter in her hands as Rob approached the table she was spying on. A strip of cloth wrapped around her hand and wrist, concealing the marks that the Goblin King had put on her. Her arm itched with the movement and Katie rubbed it in irritation. Out of the corner of her eye, Katie could see Chiara abandon her plundering of a fat patrons pocket and drift up into the rafters, edging closer to the table that interested them.

"Fine evnin' we got here, gents," Rob said jovially as he passed out tumblers and set a bottle of some liquor in the center of the table.

There were nods and murmurs of assent from the group. "That it is, Rob. Any news we might be interested in?"

"We-ell," replied Rob, drawing the word out longer than was typical. Katie held her breath. If he was going to betray them for profit, now would be the perfect time. She sagged with relief when he continued, "Have ya all heard the rumor 'bout th' Champion of th' Labyrinth?"

"I may have heard something," one of them replied.

"Yes," said another. "I heard that she solved the Labyrinth and then bested the king." Bawdy laughter rippled around the table at the subtle innuendo.

"I heard," Rob continued, "That she's back."

The laughter around the table subsided. One man leaned forward and poured himself a drink. Katie also leaned forward slightly, straining to hear their conversation over the noise of the other patrons. "Really? How interesting. There hasn't been a Champion of the Labyrinth in years. I would have thought that the nobles would be parading her about like a prized mare."

"Ah, but she's mortal," another said with a significant nod of his head. "There's some who'll be none too pleased by that."

"True." admitted the one who had spoken before. "Still, if the rumors are to be believed, then this Sarah solved the Labyrinth more than five years ago. Why has it taken this long for us to hear about her? I can understand the Goblin King being a sore loser, but to go to all that trouble to cover it up? Nah. There's more going on here."

Rob nodded his head. "Mos' likely. Well, I'd bes' be seein' to my other customers. Give a shout if ya need anythin'." With that Rob bustled back to the bar, leaving the criminals to continue the conversation without him. Katie wanted to wring his thick neck. He hadn't asked the most important question. Where was Sarah?

"So what do you think is going on?" asked one of the patrons sitting at the table. Katie focused her attention back on the group, glad that the conversation had continued.

"I don't know. Maybe the Council hushed it up for some reason. I've heard rumors about the Labyrinth falling apart. Maybe they didn't want anyone to know that it has gotten so weak a mortal could beat it." Several members of the group nodded. It was a reasonable explanation, after all.

One man, however, was shaking his head. "So then why bring her back? Mortals can't just pop in and out of the Underground at will. If she really is here again, then someone had to have brought her back. If the Council and the Goblin King were trying to keep it quiet, why bring her back Underground? Wouldn't that just attract attention to something they supposedly tried to keep quiet?"

"So what do you think is going on?" another man asked again, his tone sarcastic. "You seem to have all the answers."

"I don't have all the answers," the first man shot back. "I'm just saying that it doesn't make sense that this Sarah's victory over the Labyrinth was hidden to keep people from getting suspicious about its strength. There's too many holes in that story. Regardless of the reason behind her return, I'm sure there is more to the story than we think there is, that's all."

"So if she is so important, then where is she now?" asked another of the criminals seated at the table, unknowingly echoing Katie's previous thoughts. Glancing over, Katie was surprised to see that the speaker was female. Darting several more glances over what she could see of the table, she concluded that the speaker was the only female there. She stilled, waiting for the answer. This was the question she had been hoping to hear asked and Katie sent a silent thought of thanks to the woman for voicing it.

"You mean that you and the King's new Spymaster don't know?"

The woman shook her head and shrugged. "If Lord Leofrick knows, then he hasn't shared it with us."

Another of the men snorted, "Lord Leofrick… has he truly gotten so pompous already?"

Katie sat back in disappointment as the conversation turned to the elf that she and Chiara had seen at the manor house and his apparently startling elevation to the ruling class. It appeared that the conversation about Sarah was over. They had learned nothing useful. Katie looked up to find Chiara gazing back at her. They exchanged a worried glance before the little nyxie went back to her pickpocketing. Katie hunched her shoulders and went back to listening halfheartedly to the conversation going on at the next table. It was going to be a long night.

The next night was no better. In fact, the next several days were full of disappointment. They tried source after source, but none of them seemed to have any information on the whereabouts of the increasingly famous Champion. They wondered whether this rising fame would make it more difficult to find Sarah or whether it would now be easier. Either way, Katie and Chiara were not having much luck in Allanar.

On their third night in the city, Chiara led her to one of the nicer parts of town. It definitely wasn't an upper class neighborhood, more like solidly middle class, full of merchants and burghers homes. They had gone to the back door of a fairly nondescript residence that seemed to get a high amount of traffic for the area. Upon entering, Katie quickly realized that it was a brothel and that it served a very high class of clientele. A quick conversation with the madam who ran the place, a few coins exchanging hands, and they were led to a tiny little closet where they could see and hear the comings and goings of the girls and their clients in the main room. In exchange for their payment, the madam decreed that the 'theme' of the night would be the Champion of the Labyrinth. All of the girls were dressed as 'mortals' and told to play the part, which they did, in the hopes that Katie and Chiara would get some new information.

That night was a nightmare for Katie. While she didn't get any new information about Sarah's whereabouts, she did discover enough to make her truly terrified of revealing herself to anyone in power here in the Underground. Had she even thought about summoning the courage to approach another powerful figure for help, what she witnessed that night was enough to make her thoroughly terrified to attempt it. All of the girls, even those few who were clearly not human, were mistreated that night, simply because they were playing the role. The cruel and often cavalier attitude that the men displayed toward them shocked Katie. One girl, who actually was human, was abused so severely, that the madam had to step in to save the girl's life. The client carelessly dropped some extra money, and apologized; not for the abuse, but for the inconvenience to the madam, who now had to dismiss the girl. After all, no one wanted a damaged companion for the evening, and his treatment of her made it very clear that she could never work in a brothel again. Even the behavior of the madam horrified Katie. She had the girl thrown out, with hardly more than the clothes on her back, and told her not to return.

For Katie, trapped in that tiny room with Chiara, the events of that night laid a foundation of mistrust and hatred for the ruling class in the Underground that would not soon be torn down. Her own experience with the Goblin King, coupled with the way she witnessed the upper classes treating those humans who lived here, convinced her that further contact with any other powerful, magical beings was to be avoided at all costs. She no longer wondered why Chiara insisted that they remain as anonymous as possible. It had been made abundantly clear. Katie was relieved when they made their way back to the less opulent parts of the city. She felt safer there, amongst the criminals and tenants of the slums. There, everyone strove to maintain some level of anonymity.

As they made their way back from the brothel, they encountered an odd group of individuals that were all wearing an armband with some sort of green stone in a fiery circle. They followed the group at a distance for a little while, but quickly gave up when they all slipped through the gate of a private residence. Making their way back to the pub, they had asked Rob about the group. A look of fear crossed his plain face when they mentioned the arm bands. He quickly asserted that he had never had any dealings with those people, and that he knew nothing about them. The only thing he would say was that they were not likely to have any information about Sarah and that they would do well to avoid them. All the wheedling and begging that Chiara could do would not move him to say more of the strange people.

Chiara told her that it was just as well. They couldn't afford to get caught sneaking into someone's house, trying to spy on a weird group of people. They were supposed to be keeping a low profile and whatever that group was involved in, it wasn't likely to be helpful to them. Katie agreed and asked what their next move was.

"There's obviously nothing to learn here in Allanar," the nyxie told her as they climbed the ladder in Rob's stables. They couldn't afford to rent one of the few rooms he kept, but he let them stay here in the hayloft for free. He said he did it out of fondness for the nyxie, but privately Katie wondered if he still wasn't trying to get into her pants. He was overly friendly and far too pushy with her. Several times she had woken up in the middle of the day to what sounded like his shuffling footsteps on the ladder leading to the loft. She pushed her worries aside, reasoning that there weren't any better options available to them.

"What about the week that the Goblin King gave us?' Katie asked worriedly.

The nyxie looked worried as well. "I don't know. I know that my master always has more trouble contacting me when I am in the cities. So it isn't likely that we will see him unless he really makes an effort. On the other hand, I'm running out of contacts. We will only need one, maybe two, more nights here and then we will have to move on.

"Where are we going next," Katie asked, removing her notes from her pocket and squinting to read them in the dim lighting of the loft.

"The Dark Elven Kingdom is the next best place." Chiara told her.

"So Erisian then?"

"Erisian," Chiara confirmed.

* * *

"Move the refugees down to Weisenhaus. If necessary, we can filter them through the pass and into the Goblin Kingdom from there," Andris told Ralok and the other members of his privy council. "That will get them out of harms way but not leave them cut off in the event that the enemy makes a move into the center of the kingdom." The raids were getting out of hand and the orcs were pushing further into the kingdom than they ever had before. Andris couldn't decide if knowing that Mathyn was behind it was a good thing or if it just made it all that more maddening.

"Have you cleared that with Jareth?" Ralok asked. "He has an awful lot on his plate right now. I doubt that he would be pleased to have to deal with a dwarven migration into his kingdom on top of everything else."

Despite the severity of the meeting, Andris grinned. "Nope. I'll let him know later. I don't currently anticipate the need to send anyone over the border, but if the strain of supporting that many refugees starts to take a toll on the locals, I'm sure the provincial governor will let me know." Andris nodded to a red bearded dwarf who sat just up the table from him.

"Indeed I will," he said. "As of right now, we have ample room. I've converted several of the less fertile valleys into temporary camps for the refugees. My people are busy taking care of the necessary arrangements as we speak. Beer supplies might run a little low if we overrun too many more fields, though, not to mention bread."

There was murmuring around the table which Ralok cut off after Andris glanced at him and rolled his eyes. "I'm sure we'll survive," the massive black haired dwarf said. He turned to the provincial governor who had been speaking. "I assume you will be prioritizing the bread over the beer? I can live without beer, but I'd rather not starve. After all, we can always drink something stronger. The Fates know we are all going to need it before this is over."

Those gathered around the table all nodded in agreement and the meeting broke up. Andris remained where he was, studying the map inlaid into the stone table in front of him. He knew that what was coming was going to be bad. Reports from the north indicated that the orcs were beginning to mass around the main pass leading into the center of his kingdom. It looked very much as if they were getting ready for a serious strike. Andris couldn't think of any way in which this would end well for him and his people. Even if he was able to repel the creatures, it was likely that he would suffer serious casualties, leaving him in a precarious position.

The dwarven king stroked his beard and considered his options. He could follow suit, massing his army and meeting the invaders head on as they marched through the pass. If he chose the right spot, he could ensure that he had the advantage. He briefly considered collapsing the main pass and forcing Mathyn to split his forces into smaller contingents that could filter through the smaller passes, but dismissed that idea with a grimace. That would hardly be easy; never mind the later ramifications of having to send men out to try and clear the pass. That would be both difficult and dangerous work. That particular province was known for it's avalanches.

"Well, Uncle? Any flashes of genius yet?" Ralok asked from his right.

Andris grunted. "No."

Ralok leaned over the table, also studying the map. "They control all this," he said, running his finger along the section of the table depicting the upper regions of the kingdom. "They have overrun significant portions of the northernmost provinces. I'm starting to get reports of sightings from as far south as this." His finger stabbed down on a spot that was just several valleys north of the main pass Andris had been thinking about.

"Dammit." Andris muttered. He leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table, and studied the area around the latest sightings. They were getting far too close to the high population areas of the kingdom. The open valleys in the center of the kingdom had long been settled and much of their food was grown there. If they lost that territory, there would be starvation within months.

"Start having the bulk of the food stores from the harvest moved out of the region," he told his nephew. "Much of it can be brought here. What we can't store, we will send south."

"That's not going to be a popular decision," Ralok remarked as Andris stood to leave. "The residents are going to be reluctant to give up their supplies."

"I'd rather they be alive to curse my name than starve in a matter of months if we lose those food stores," Andris said drily, moving toward the doors. Ralok held the door for him and they left the drafty council room together. "If they feel so strongly about it, they can move south with the food." Some would move, Andris knew, but many would not. Dwarves were stubborn, and many would rather stay and face the enemy than abandon their homes. He tugged his beard, considering the area where the most recent sightings had occurred.

Ralok chuckled slightly as they walked down the hallway. "They already curse your name, Uncle. The draft hasn't exactly been popular in that region. They don't see the need, as they haven't seen any of the effects of the raids yet."

Andris grunted again. "Too bad." He indicated the passage that led to the entrance to the keep and both dwarves turned down it, heading the the main courtyard. "The area where the sightings have increased, it's heavily forested, isn't it?"

Ralok nodded. "Lot's of places to hide. It would be easy to slip an army right up to the pass without much warning."

"My thoughts exactly." Andris slapped his nephew on the shoulder. "Why don't we increase the number of patrols through that area, just to be safe."

Ralok stopped walking and Andris outpaced him for a moment before turning back to look inquiringly at him. "If you don't need me here, I'll go myself." Ralok told him, straightening up and looking him squarely in the eye.

As much as Andris would have preferred to keep his heir safe, he knew that Ralok was one of the best fighters in the kingdom. His nephew would chafe under the restriction if he tried to keep him here. Andris remembered a time, when he had been young and his father had been king, when he had been much like Ralok was now. There were still times when Andris longed to be out in the field, facing the enemy head on with his hammer in one hand and his men at his back. More often than not, he ended up sitting in council meetings and handling the day to day minutia that was the curse of every ruler instead.

Still he hesitated. "I am due to meet Conor on the border in just a few days," he told his nephew. Ralok's expression did not change, but there was disappointment in his violet eyes. Andris sighed. "I can have the council see to the necessary preparations for moving the refugees and the food stores."

"Thank you, Uncle." Ralok offered his hand with a grin.

Andris clasped the younger dwarf's forearm warmly. "Yes, well… you be careful. My sister will skin me alive if anything happens to you. I will be taking a company of troops south with me when I go to meet the King of Avalon," he informed his nephew. "The rest of the army will be under your command while I am out in the field, so don't get so deep in the wilderness that you are out of touch."

Ralok nodded and released his arm. "Mother can only skin you if she can catch you," he quipped. "I'll be careful though, and I will see to it that the rest of the recruits are whipped into shape while you are away." His grin was cocky and his manner sure. Andris briefly envied him his youthful optimism. Ralok saluted him and headed off, back up the corridor and into the keep. No doubt heading off to see to the necessary arrangements for his venture out with the scouting party.

Andris shook his head as he continued in the opposite direction, heading out to yet another meeting. Ralok would eventually have to settle into the role of king, but not just yet.

* * *

It took Andris nearly a week to make it to the rendezvous point that he and Conor had agreed on. There always seemed to be another meeting he simply had to attend, another problem only he could solve, or another dispute that simply had to be mediated by the king himself. Ralok was already gone before he got disgusted and put his foot down, declaring that he would be leaving in the morning. Overall, his privy council had taken the news well, notwithstanding a few dismayed looks from one or two of them.

In the interest of saving some time, Andris had considered riding to his meeting with Conor. Most dwarves looked ridiculous in the saddle and avoided riding at all costs. In the end, Andris chose to travel on foot, deeming it worth taking an extra couple of days to avoid a sore ass and the indignity of looking like a child perched on his mount. As a race, dwarves could move with both agility and speed when the need arose. When the dwarven army marched, they moved along at a mile eating jog and could move at this pace for most of the day without rest. Andris was pleased to find that his stamina returned quickly, in spite of his increasingly sedentary lifestyle. By the end of the second day, he was easily able to keep up with his soldiers as they moved south.

Conor came striding out of his tent when Andris and his dwarves jogged into the well established camp the humans had erected just over the dwarven border. "Andris! You finally made it!" Conor greeted him warmly. Although they occasionally clashed at the council table, the King of Avalon and the Dwarven King were good friends.

Andris barked a few brief orders to the company of dwarven soldiers that had traveled with him and then returned the human king's greeting. "Hello Conor! I see that your people seem to have made themselves at home in my kingdom."

"Your kingdom! This is my side of the border, you drunk!"

It was a long standing jest that neither one of them knew or cared exactly where the border was. Cartographers and advisers from both kingdoms had long insisted that the border needed to be clearly marked and patrolled, but both Conor and Andris always dismissed the idea with a laugh. They were content to argue the point on and off whenever they met. There was little along the border besides forested hillsides that gradually gave way to the plains of Avalon in the south and the mountainous home of the dwarves in the north. Neither of them thought that there was anything here to be worth the trouble and expense of maintaining a strict border.

As the two monarchs stood talking, a human servant appeared beside them with two foaming tankards of ale. "Ah! Just what I needed." Andris said, grabbing the tankard and downing it.

Conor laughed and picked up his own tankard. "I see all that running hasn't dampened your enthusiasm for drinking. Come, there is more to be had." Conor gestured to his tent. "I'll notify the cooks. Tonight, we eat well."

"Excellent!" Andris proclaimed, following Conor.

Several hours later, Andris sat back in his chair with a contented sigh. "Well, Conor, I don't know whether this venison came from your kingdom or mine, but your cooks certainly outdid themselves."

Conor smiled. "Yes, they are quite good, aren't they? Gwenna got tired of the terrible food that used to come out of the castle kitchen when we were first married. She established a culinary school and insisted that all of the cooks that served the castle and the army were to attend." They both chuckled. There was little that was beneath the notice of Queen Gwenna. Although she could seem absent minded, the human queen rarely missed anything important when it came to her subjects and always looked for opportunities to improve their lives. She had established several universities and schools that had become renowned throughout the Realms as the premier places to study certain subjects.

Conor continued, "I have to say, it was a good idea. An army marches on its stomach, after all, and mine has been far happier since my wife insisted they be fed like this. My recruiters tell me that after word got around, young men were practically flocking to their doors to join."

Andris chuckled. "Perhaps I should send my cooks to Avalon."

"Still having trouble recruiting?" Conor asked.

Andris grimaced slightly and shifted in his seat. "Not trouble, exactly. My people are so independent that they would rather fight off the orcs on their own. They find the prospect of having to follow orders... distasteful."

"I can imagine," Conor murmured with an absolutely straight face. Andris shot him a glare of mock irritation, which the human king ignored. "How are things in the north?" he asked.

"Difficult. I sent Ralok out with a scouting party. The orcs have been seen around Ravencall pass and we suspect that they are massing for a strike through the pass and into the center of the kingdom." Andris' face grew bleak at the thought. If his people refused to evacuate, the losses could be catastrophic.

Their discussion was interrupted by several servants who made their way into the tent to clear the table. The two monarchs sat silently while they worked. Each one immersed in his own grim thoughts. When the servants left, leaving the table clean but for a bottle of wine and a plate of cheese, Andris cleared his throat and asked, "How about you? What's the situation here along the border? How goes the construction of your outposts?"

Conor rose and made his way to a table across the tent, returning with two goblets which he filled with wine. Passing one to Andris, he said, "It goes slowly. Every few days, the workmen have to stop and fend off another attack." Conor began to pace restlessly. "If I can't get the outposts built, then any forces I send up here have little hope of resupply. I am not likely to be able to hold my supply lines open for long if Mathyn should come against me in force. It is just too damn easy to outmanoeuvre me down there on the plains, cutting off my access to the border."

Andris nodded. "So, they will come against us both at once, counting on me being too busy defending the pass to come to your aid here." Conor nodded in agreement and threw himself down in his chair, slumping dejectedly against the back. Andris stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"I could establish some supply dumps on my side of the border," he said slowly. "I've got plenty of resources, but I'm running out of places to store them. I'm moving most of this years harvest as far south as I can, as well as all of my northern weapons caches. I can relocate them here, along with some of the refugees. They can help to build a defensible fort. That should alleviate the glut of supplies that I can't store and give you some extra breathing room." Andris chuckled, remembering his comments in Council about Conor's border outpost idea.

"That would be very helpful!" Conor sat upright, his gloom lifting. "That will actually make it possible for me to send more men up here than I had originally planned on. I was not willing to risk too much of my army getting trapped up here with no way to rest and resupply. I can cover larger portions of the border if I know that my people have someplace to fall back to."

Andris nodded. "As long as you can continue to cover my backside, then I will be more than happy to supply your troops. If the orcs start to come at me from the southeast, then I'm done for." Andris stood and tossed back the remaining wine in his goblet. "I'm beat, think I'll turn in. Shall we go hunting for some excitement tomorrow, Conor?"

The human king stood and grinned. "Most definitely."


	20. Back to Back

**Disclaimer -**  We run and play in the Labyrinth, but we are just visitors here. We take nothing from this world except what we bring.

A/N - So this chapter was not originally a planned one. It happened because Chapter 19 ran ridiculously long on me and I had to split it up. Seriously, it was almost 15,000 words, which is really just way to long for a single chapter.

I've had at least one question regarding the geography of the Underground and I just wanted to remind everyone that there is a map that goes with this story. It can be found at:  **LiteraryRhapsody . deviantart . com**. Just remember that it is really rough. I am not an artist. My drawing skills are generally limited to stick figures and the like, so the map is only meant to give you a general idea.

This chapter is UNEDITED by anyone but obsessive little old me... so if you see a major problem or something, shoot me a PM. I made you all wait so long that I felt bad taking another week to push it through my usual editing process.

**Warning**  - This chapter features my very first battle scenes. Nothing epic, more like a skirmish. But I still wanted to let you all know that there would be scenes of violence. Please recall that my story is rated M... and this is one of the reasons why.

* * *

Andris and Conor spent the next several days on patrol along their mutual border, making plans and scouting locations for supply dumps and military camps. Andris reluctantly accepted Conor's offer of a horse, despite his certainty that he looked ridiculous riding one. It would have been too difficult to talk to his fellow monarch while jogging to keep pace with his mount. His men, not having to worry about chatting with anyone while they moved, preferred to remain on foot. Several times, when his horse spooked at thin air, Andris heartily wished he was back among them.

"At least you kept your seat that time," the King of Avalon remarked as Andris brought his mount back under control for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

"No thanks to this idiot," Andris said, slapping the neck of the horse. The horse snorted at the sensation, it's breath steaming in the chill air. "What did you do, give me the most skittish mount you could find just for laughs?"

His companion chuckled and held up a hand to halt the progress of the group. "Would I do such a thing?" Conor asked in mock astonishment.

"Possibly," Andris muttered, eliciting a laugh from the plain looking human king as well as the officers that traveled in company with them.

"We will pause here for the noon meal," Conor told the surrounding officers. Word spread, and soon the entire scouting party was sitting on the dry grass of the hillside, munching their meals and looking out over the small stream at the bottom of the hill. Behind them, the forest snuck down from the hills, creating deep shadows in the midday sun.

Upon finishing their meals, the two monarchs decided to give their men some extra rest. Together, Conor and Andris ambled up the hill, toward the cold dimness of the trees. They came to an area that appeared to have been flattened out, as though a giant hammer had landed on the hillside, creating a hollow depression. "This looks like a good place for one of those forts we were talking about," Conor remarked, biting into the apple he was holding.

"I agree." Andris wrapped his woolen scarf tighter around his neck and took several steps toward the trees. He raised his waterskin, taking a swig of the cold liquid within. As he got closer to the trees, he noted the stillness of the air as the sounds of their men faded into the distance. "All this timber here will be helpful. No need to bring in building supplies. Although I would prefer stone."

"Why stone? It takes so much longer." Conor said, joining him as he stepped under the trees. He tossed his apple core off into the underbrush and rubbed his bare hands together as he spoke.

"Won't burn," Andris said shortly, still listening intently as he tied his waterskin back onto his belt.

Conor chuckled slightly. "That's true. But I don't think that the enemy is going to wait politely for us to quarry enough stone to make a difference, much less wait while we lug it up this hill."

Andris barely heard Conor's weak joke. He was too distracted by a growing sense of unease. Although he was no stranger to the sometimes unsettling effect of a quiet forest, there was a different quality to the hush this time. There was an abnormal edge that made Andris nervous and put him on high alert. Instinctively, he slowed his breathing and made as little noise as possible, much as a prey animal will do when it knows it is being stalked by the hunter. His heartbeat sounded incredibly loud in his ears and he looked around, hoping to see what was so unsettling.

Conor looked at him strangely and Andris tilted his head toward the deep forest, putting a finger to his lips. The human king raised his eyebrows and looked in the same direction as the dwarf, also listening intently. After several moments, he appeared to catch the same uneasy feeling from the aberrant silence as Andris. "That's odd," he remarked very softly, his hand sliding slowly to the sword he wore at his hip. Andris' own hand was already unconsciously straying toward the handle of the war hammer strapped to his back, even before Conor spoke.

The two stood silently, straining their ears to hear any sound, but the forest was eerily quiet. There were no bird calls or scurryings of the small animals as they prepared for the cold season. Everything seemed unnaturally still. Conor, his knuckles white with the force of his grip, drew his sword with agonizing slowness. Andris decided that it wasn't a bad idea and swung his own weapon off his back, taking care to make no noise and to move as little as possible. His violet eyes, so well adapted for seeing in low light environments, adjusted faster to the gloom than Conor's did, and he peered intently into the deep forest.

"What can you see?" Conor whispered, so softly that Andris barely heard him.

"Nothing... yet." Just after he spoke, a crack, like someone stepping on a branch, sounded off to the left. Both men started at the unexpected sound, jerking their heads in the direction of the noise. After a tense moment, Andris shook his head slightly. "Still nothing…" he breathed.

Almost unconsciously, both Andris and Conor crouched down behind a conveniently fallen tree. Both men continued to stare hard into the gloom as the feeling that they were not alone grew. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Just as he started to think he was being ridiculous, Andris caught sight of several flickers of movement. "Wait. There's something moving." He cursed under his breath. There was a lot of movement.

Another branch was stepped on, this time to the right. By now, both men could see movement deep under the forest canopy. They began to back slowly out of the trees, not taking their eyes off whatever enemy was obviously attempting to sneak up on their patrol.

Just as they cleared the tree line, they were spotted. An arrow whistled by, slicing through Conors' cloak as it went. Both leaders whirled and sprinted back toward the hillside where their men sat like sitting ducks.

Conor, with his longer legs, easily outpaced Andris. "Raid!" the dwarf heard him yell as soon as he could be seen by the scouting party below him. "We're under attack!" The reaction to his shout was immediate, judging by the sounds that floated back up the hill. Both men and dwarves were obviously scrambling for their weapons.

Andris glanced over his shoulder as he ran. "Orcs!" he bellowed as soon as he was sure of the identity of the attackers. Knowing that it was stupid to try and get back to the rest of the men, only to have to turn around and rush back with them, Andris scanned the grassy depression for hiding places. He found nothing promising. Deciding that this was as good a place as any, he turned and planted himself firmly in the center of the clearing instead. "To me!" he roared, hoping that their side got there first. He checked his knife and his axe before taking a firm grip on his hammer to steady his nerves. The orcs were holding the high ground. If his and Conors' forces couldn't reach the flat area before the enemy, then they had very little chance of defeating them.

Andris stood alone in the grassy depression, watching orcs pour out of the forest. Seeing only a single dwarf standing against them, they roared in delight and surged forward. He expected to be hit with an arrow or bola at any moment, but the orcs seemed to have forgotten about their long range weapons in their rush to get to him. Andris ground his teeth and ruthlessly squashed the urge to run, although he wasn't sure whether he would have charged the orcs or fled from them in terror. Regardless, he held his ground as they swiftly approached.

As he braced himself for the coming attack, Andris could hear the sounds of his allies scrambling across the grass toward him. In his peripheral vision, he saw Conor move up to his side, his sword held tightly in his right hand and a shield strapped to his left arm. Just before the first of the orcs reached them, their eyes happened to meet and they shared a manic grin. Then they turned, just in time to meet the foremost of the raiding party with a clash.

* * *

Conor found himself screaming with inarticulate rage as he swung his sword at the orc in front of him. It always amazed him, how quickly he was gripped by battle lust. To his left, he could hear Andris, also screaming hoarsely as he attacked the orcs. All around him, men and dwarves were locked in fierce battles with the enemy. Conor forced the blind rage of battle back so he could think. When he was once more in control, his mind dispassionately began the process of analyzing the probable outcome of the battle, even as he raised his shield to deflect the arcing strike of the bola wielded by the orc he faced. Their forces easily outnumbered the orcs, but the orcs were far larger than they were, and extremely tough. He estimated that the two parties were about evenly matched in strength, with neither currently having an advantage. This was not actually good news for the men and dwarves. There were likely to be a great many casualties.

The orc in front of him stepped back, rotating his arm to get the bola swinging once again. Although it wasn't the best weapon for close contact fighting, it was roughly as effective as a flail. Regardless, the length of the chain and the bulk of the orc wielding the weapon made it far more dangerous. Conor sidestepped the next swing, twisting to bring his sword down on the orcs arm in the same motion. The shock of the impact traveled up his sword, jarring his arm. Automatically, he tightened his grip and wrenched the weapon back. The orc howled. Blood and bits of bone flew everywhere and Conor's opponent dropped the bola and fell back, cradling his shattered arm against his stomach.

With a snarl, the orc pulled a wickedly spiked weapon from his belt with his off hand and charged at the human king. It swept the vaguely mallet shaped club toward Conor's side, forcing him to jump back to avoid having his ribs crushed. Recovering, Conor swung his own weapon, hoping to hit the back of the creatures knee. With a grunt, the orc almost contemptuously flicked the human king's sword aside with the head of his weapon and then raised it in preparation for a massive downward swing. Conor brought his shield up, catching the blow that was meant to crack open his skull solidly on its surface. To his dismay, the shield itself cracked under the heavy blow.

Roaring in satisfaction, the orc pulled back and prepared for another overhand blow to Conor's head. With his shield now useless, Conor moved in close and slashed at the shoulder of the orc before it could deliver the blow. "Filthy human bastard," it snarled, as blood began to flow down it's one remaining good arm.

Conor grinned wickedly in reply. Taking advantage of the creatures distraction, he danced back out of reach. Using his sword, Conor slashed the leather strap that held the shield on his arm and flung the disk of wood and metal in the face of his enemy.

This move surprised the orc and his moment of confusion was his undoing. With a howl of triumph, Conor darted back in and rammed his blade up through the neck of the creature. The orc looked shocked for a moment and tried to speak. The best it could manage were a few garbled grunts as thick gushes of hot blood began to pour out of its tusked mouth. Conor yanked his sword from the dying orc's windpipe and and was quickly covered in the deep red blood that spurted from the wound. Arterial spray reddened the ground around them, steaming briefly in the open air before the orc fell in a heap, dead.

Conor did not have time to gloat over his victory. Another orc charged him, and then another. As the chaos of the battle swirled around them, Conor soon found himself standing back to back with Andris, surrounded by enemies. Both kings fought desperately, fending off blow after blow. Dwarves and men alike fought to break through the wall of orcs that surrounded the two kings. For the moment, they were able to do just enough damage to keep Conor and Andris alive under the onslaught.

"This isn't good," Andris yelled.

"No shit!" Conor replied, slicing deeply into the belly of the smallish orc in front of him. He wasn't able to see the results of his handiwork, as the orc fell to his knees and was roughly trampled by a larger one that swung a curved blade toward Conor's neck.

Avoiding the blow, he stumbled back, knocking into Andris. They both managed to keep their footing... barely. A blow that was clearly meant to take the head off the dwarven king sailed wide, nicking his upper arm, but Conor barely registered the pain of the cut. He was too focused on taking down the orc that was swinging at him again.

A spine chilling wail suddenly echoed from the forest and the momentum of the battle faltered at the sound. Conor looked around, noticing that the sound caused a brief lull in the battle as all of the combatants paused to look at something that Conor couldn't see yet.

"No, I'm talking about that!" Andris said, panting with exertion and waving his hammer in the direction of the forest.

Conor made no reply. He was breathing hard, the cold air burning against his dry throat as he tried to catch his breath while he could. Ignoring the sensation, he craned his neck, trying to see what was causing the noise but he couldn't make it out. All he could see was a black mass in amongst the trees.

There was a roar of delight from the remaining orcs and they renewed their attack with vigor, pulling Conor's attention back to the orc in front of him. They traded blows, neither man nor orc gaining the upper hand as they battled.

The wail sounded again. Slashing at the orc in front of him, Conor risked a look in the direction of the forest, searching for the source of the inhuman noise. He only caught a brief glimpse, but that was more than adequate for him to recognize the threat. A nightmare was stalking out of the forest, snarling and jibbering as it came. Conor automatically revised his battle assessment, even as his heart sank. They were definitely in trouble. His spirit quailed as he was hit with the wave of terror that rolled off the creature like a miasma.

As the vaguely humanoid beast moved onto the flat area, it grew larger, feeding on the fear of the man and dwarves it approached. Black shadows oozed and writhed, trailing behind it like an overly long cloak. Men and dwarves alike fell back in horror as it approached, either too afraid to attack or too stunned by its appearance to do so. The orcs they were fighting pressed their advantage and several members of the joint patrol were cut down where they stood, not able to shake off the effects of the nightmare fast enough.

The nightmare darted forward, catching a desperately fighting dwarf in its impossibly long arms. The unfortunate dwarf screamed in agony as his skin was shredded by the teeth and claws of the creature. Weakly, the dwarf tried to swing his weapon at the looming head of the beast, only to lose his grip when the nightmare smashed him against the ground. Growling, it lifted the now limp dwarf and tore his throat out with its razor sharp teeth. There was a shower of blood and the nightmare carelessly tossed the body aside, licking its chops as it searched for another victim.

The ferocity of the attack struck terror into the hearts of all who witnessed it, even amongst the ranks of the orcs. After that, all of the combatants on the field gave the nightmare as wide a berth as possible. As the minutes ticked by and the nightmare claimed several more victims, it became apparent that the men and dwarves were losing ground. The arrival of the menacing creature meant that they had to fight a mental battle against crippling fear in addition to fighting the orcs. Between the two, they were slowly being pushed toward the edge of the flat clearing.

Conor, with Andris still at his back, stumbled over a body and went down. He struggled to his hands and knees, slipping in a pool of blood and guts as he tried to get to his feet. He had only a moment to react when he caught sight of a blade whistling toward him in his peripheral vision. Conor narrowly avoided being disembowled by abandoning his attempts to rise and rolling away through the blood and entrails the he had just slipped in instead. Now covered in gore, he performed an awkward flip to regain his feet. A telltale pull in his abdominal muscles told him that he would be regretting that move later… if he survived.

Conor saw Andris swing his hammer, taking out the knee of the orc that had nearly gutted him. His friend yelled over the screams of the combatants and the moans of the injured and dying, "You alright?"

"I'll live!" Conor yelled back. Taking advantage of a brief period without an opponent to look around. He noticed that they were now closer to the slope than ever. "If they push us down the slope, we're done!" Conor knew that if the heavier and stronger orcs also had the advantage of forcing the men and dwarves to fight an uphill battle, it would all be over in a matter of minutes.

He barely had time to catch Andris' nod of agreement before he was once again under attack. As he fought off yet another orc, he heard Andris rallying the men and added his own voice to the din. "Back! Push them back! Toward the trees!"

Slowly, the men and dwarves began to form a wall of flashing blades and whirling hammer heads. Step by painful step, they pushed the enemy back toward the forest. The nightmare shrieked in frustration as the line of orcs broke. They turned and ran back into the forest, leaving the nightmare to face what was left of the patrol alone. The feeling of dread bleeding outward from the creature intensified, as did the shadows surrounding it, until it looked like a pitch black cloud with glowing red eyes in the center of the blood soaked clearing.

"Never mind the orcs! Surround the nightmare!" Conor shouted, as several of the men started to run off in the direction of the fleeing orcs. Those who now surrounded the nightmare looked utterly terrified. "Don't let the fear get to you! Fight through it!"

He slowly approached the dark entity, sword ready to parry any attack made by the dreadful claws of the nightmare. It watched his every move narrowly. Conor was aware of Andris, slowly moving around the creature while its attention was locked on him, but he kept his own gaze firmly on the nightmare.

"Why are you here?" he asked the creature.

A sinister chuckle sounded from the darkness, softly at first, then rising in volume and strength, until the creature was howling with insane laughter. Conor flinched back at the sound, as did every man and dwarf in the clearing. Despite the laughter and the fear, Andris continued moving, finally coming to a stop on the other side, between the nightmare and the forest.  _He's insane_ , Conor thought, realizing that the dwarf intended to cut off the creatures escape and attack it from behind.

"Fools!" The hissing voice of the nightmare was as terrifying as everything else about it. Around the clearing, men and dwarves swallowed hard at the sound. Conor himself, as the focus of the things attention, very nearly lost control of his bladder when it suddenly addressed him by name. "You think that you have won, hmmm, Conor Lagadec? This is only the beginning." Behind the creature, the King of Avalon could see Andris slowly approaching, his hammer held ready.

Conor drew a shaky breath and replied. "Haven't I? You appear to be surrounded, so I will ask you again. Why are you here?" Without warning, the blackness surrounding the creature ballooned out, swallowing him instantly.

The battlefield and all of the men on it disappeared. There was no sun. Even the ground beneath his feet was shrouded in an inky blackness that his eyes could not pierce. Conor was knocked on his back, cracking his head against the blood soaked ground. Pain exploded through his skull as it impacted a small rock, and the swirling blackness around him blurred before his eyes. When his vision cleared, the nightmare loomed over him, free of the enshrouding blackness that had covered it before. It's scabrous skin and cadaverous form hinted at the awful hunger that dominated its nature. Vaguely, Conor could hear the shouts and cries of his companions, but they were muted, as though they came from far away. He wanted to wriggle away, but he found himself unable to do anything but stare into the burning eyes of the nightmare as it crouched down by his feet and crawled slowly up his body. The weight of the thing belied it's appearance, and it crushed the very breath from his lungs. Frantically, Conor gasped for air while the vile creature sat on his chest. He could feel the long claws of the nightmare pricking him as it leaned down, its face only inches from his own.

"King of Avalon," the nightmare whispered, it's fetid breath washing over him. Conor gagged weakly, turning his face away and closing his eyes, sure that this was the end. The nightmare chuckled again. "You-"

Suddenly, the pressure on his chest eased and the noxious smell of the thing lessened. Surprised, Conor opened his eyes to see Andris leaping over him and charging toward the prone nightmare, war hammer in one hand and battle axe in the other. The nightmare scrambled to rise, shrieking in anger as the dwarf closed in.

The brief distraction of the creature caused whatever spell it had been weaving to collapse, and the sun once more shone down on the chilly, blood spattered clearing. Conor staggered to his feet, his head pounding as several men and dwarves rushed the nightmare, which fought savagely, mercilessly shredding anyone that it could gets its claws into. Conor was unable to do anything but watch dumbly as one man was disemboweled and another slashed open from ear to ear by the ginsu sharp claws of the nightmare.

Finally, the sheer number of opponents overwhelmed the nightmare and it sank to the ground. It was battered and bleeding, but not yet dead. As Andris prepared to deliver the killing blow, it shrieked, "This is not the end! The Empty One comes! He will deliver you all to your deaths!" Once again, the creature began to cackle maniacally. "The Dark Lord shall rise and you shall-"

His shrieking was cut off as Andris delivered a savage blow with his hammer, smashing its skull and splashing brain matter over the already gore covered ground. Without a word, Andris spat on the body and turned away, his face grim.

Conor stood, not having moved since he regained his footing. He had a splitting headache, and the cut on his arm was beginning to sting. When he shifted his weight in preparation for taking a step toward the dwarf king, the muscles in his abdomen suddenly woke up and began to burn fiercely. He groaned and swayed slightly where he stood.

Seeing that their king was in need of help, two men came forward to brace him, one on either side. Before he allowed them to help him from the battlefield, Conor took another look at the fallen nightmare. He took a slow, deep breath, trying to erase the smell of the creature's breath from his nostrils. He couldn't help but recall what he had just gone through.  _That very well might have been the end_ , he thought. Before Conor could go any further along that train of thought, Andris spoke, distracting him from what surely would have been a debilitating bout of reactionary fear.

"I think," the dwarf said still breathing hard from the exertion of battle. "That we most definitely... need to build... a fort... here."

* * *

It took hours for what remained of the patrol to clean up the mess. Of the roughly seventy-five men and dwarves that had set out from their base camp, a mere thirty-three remained. They patched up their wounded as best they could and buried their fallen in a hastily dug mass grave. The orcs they slung into a pile to be burned. Overhead the sky slowly turned slate grey and the light of the sun waned.

Andris stood, shivering in the increasing chill, next to the mass grave of the fallen. He kept well out of range of the greasy smoke billowing through the air as the orc corpses were burned. The remaining dwarves had scoured the region for rocks and built a rough cairn over the relatively shallow pit. Dwarves were traditionally interred in rock tombs, their bodies taken to the catacombs of Totenreich, but there would be no such burial for those who had fallen in this battle. They were too far from home, and it was too long of a journey to undertake with hostile forces roaming the Realms.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Andris turned to see Conor approaching. The human king was slightly hunched and moving with obvious pain, but he was relatively unhurt nonetheless. Andris sighed. He had gotten off with only a few cuts and bruises. Still, it had been a vicious battle and the dwarven king wanted nothing more than to collapse into a nice feather bed and sleep for days.

"We should be able to leave within an hour." Conor told him, coming to stand with him beside the grave. The human king looked sadly at the rocks piled over the fallen. "So many lost. I didn't expect such an organized force to strike so hard this far south."

"They were very bold, and very organized," Andris agreed. He stroked his beard, grimacing as his hand got stuck on a bit of clotted gore that still clung to the hairs. He looked around for a clean patch of grass to wipe his hand on but couldn't find one. Instead, he settled for wiping his hand on the leg of his ruined breeches as he continued. "I am less worried about their boldness than I am about the appearance of the nightmare and what that means for the Realms."

Conor nodded. "This changes the dynamic of the battle to come. No one knows what enticed the orcs to accept Mathyn's rule, but if he has been successful in bringing a wider range of creatures under his command, then there is no telling what we will be facing when he decides to come south in earnest."

"Right. Up until now, we've been assuming that we were going to be facing a largely orcish force. We may need to start getting used to the idea that we have no idea what we are going to be up against." Andris cleared his throat and gave his friend a sidelong glance. "To tell you the truth, I am more worried about what that nightmare  _said_  than by its presence."

Before Conor could reply, Andris held up his hand to forestall any commentary. "I know you don't think that there is much point in paying attention to prophecies, but I've seen references to 'The Empty One' and a 'Dark Lord' before."

Conor rubbed the back of his neck irritably, adjusting the sling that held his injured arm against his chest. Andris had heard him protesting, loudly, that he was perfectly fine without the sling. The soldier who was patching him up had looked at the dwarven king with wide eyes, not knowing what to say to his monarch. The dwarf had told the man to go ahead with the sling, much to Conor's disgust, and the man had obeyed, sheepishly apologizing to his king every few seconds for doing it. It looked as though Conor wasn't going to get used to the restriction on his movements anytime soon.  _With any luck_ _,_  Andris thought, _he won't need it once we get a real healer to look at him._

"So what you are saying is that we need to start paying attention to the prophecy because the nightmare used specific words? Isn't that kind of a stretch?" Conor asked.

"Maybe it is," Andris replied. He gestured, turning to the grave that they were standing next to as he continued to speak. "Even if it is a stretch, if actually looking into it will provide us some warning about days like today, then I am more than willing to be proven wrong in the long run."

Conor nodded. "You could be right. I'm still worried about what else Mathyn might have up his sleeve up there in the northlands. Maybe the nightmare was a fluke, maybe it wasn't. Either way, it certainly believed fervently enough in  _something_  to agree to accompany a raiding party of orcs... during daylight hours..." His voice trailed off thoughtfully and he shivered in the rising wind as he too looked mournfully over the mass grave of their men for a few moments before continuing. "Personally, I've never seen much value in wading through all of that dusty prophecy nonsense, but maybe we had better look into it."

"We're due to meet with Helimar and most of the others in Erisian in a week," Andris remarked.

"Yes, the dispatch he sent me said that his scholars had finally finished their research into the prophecy. I wonder how the Council will receive the news? Although, the tone of his message led me to believe that not everyone on the Council was invited."

"I read the same thing into it," Andris replied. "At the very least I would not expect Jareth to be present. He is far too closely entwined in this." Andris paused to shake his head with a slight chuckle. "He also has quite enough to worry about right now."

"Surely we can't keep him in the dark!" Conor exclaimed turning a little too quickly and wincing visibly as he did so.

Andris chose not to remark on the wince. Instead he replied, "No, he can't be kept completely in the dark, but he probably shouldn't be told everything either. That's the thing about prophecies, they can become self fulfilling if we aren't careful. Besides, do we really want him running around after a prophecy that may or may not turn out to be real?"

"Certainly not!"

Both men fell silent, each contemplating the grim possibilities for the future. After several moments, Conor spoke again.

"I should thank you."

The Dwarf King waved away his thanks. "Don't be ridiculous. You'd have done the same, if the situation had been different."

"Yes," Conor agreed. "But it wasn't. I was sure that I was going to die for a moment there. Someday, I will return the favor. Thank you, my friend." He offered Andris his hand.

As Andris clasped the hand of his friend, he couldn't help but hope that Conor never had to make good on his promise. They stood there, next to the cairn, until a soldier brought them their horses. In the interest of speed, the entire party was mounted this time, dwarves included. As they rode away to rendezvous with the rest of their people, the first snow of the season began to fall. Slowly, the gore covered field turned into a pristine blanket of white that showed no hint of the horror that lay beneath it.

* * *

Sarah walked next to the wagon with Elder Samoth, every so often lifting a hand to brush away the moisture from an errant snow flurry settling on her face. The sun was obviously going to down behind the cloud cover and the shadows were lengthening in the tall grass that they moved through. Samoth had told her that the grasslands were incredibly vast and largely unmapped, making them an ideal home for the somewhat reclusive centaurs. To Sarah, who was used to city life, the emptiness was at once both soothing and unnerving.

Thanks to his ongoing tutelage, Sarah now knew the geography, customs, and governments of the Underground better than she knew those Above. They had been reviewing what she knew before the snow began to fall. However, once the white flakes began to drift down, Samoth had gone silent, a somewhat pinched expression on his face. He kept surreptitiously gazing back the way they came before shaking his head and continuing on.

"Samoth? Are you alright?" Sarah asked as the elderly centaur once again turned from his contemplation of the grassland behind them and glanced up at the sky with a frown.

He turned to her with a tight smile. "Of course."

"You look so upset about the snow. Is it really that unusual?"

"No," he said shortly. "It isn't the snow that's unusual. I've done something that may not have been wise, and I am worried about the consequences."

Sensing the he did not wish to pursue the conversation, she refrained from pressing for an explanation. They continued in silence for a few more minutes before Sarah grew tired of walking. She swung herself up on the back step of the wagon that she and Samoth shared. Settling down with her feet swinging, she leaned against the ornate scrollwork that surrounded the door and watched the snow fall softly over the grasslands they traveled through.

It wasn't until they were camped for the night that Sarah was able to renew their conversation. The earlier snow had changed to cold drizzle and the campfire hissed and spat whenever an errant drop blew into it. Sarah sat, huddled in a blanket under the scant protection of a leather canopy attached to the wagon. The evening meal was over, and many families had retired for the night, fatigued from a long day of travel.

"Samoth?"

The Elder looked questioningly at her and she continued hesitantly, "You said earlier that you had done something unusual. What have you done?"

He shifted around where he sat, seeking a more comfortable position before answering. "The clans have been out of touch with the rest of the Realms for too long. I ordered a group of young clansmen to patrol our borders for the winter in case the High King sends an emissary. I worry for them."

"Why? I would think that they are more than capable of handling themselves, despite the snow."

Samoth sighed. "In normal years I would say that you are right and I am worrying needlessly. However, this year, the snow has come early. That usually signals a very harsh winter to come. I am not certain that it was wise to leave  _any_  of my people in the northern reaches of our lands to face the wrath of the winter winds. I pray to the Fates that they either hear from the rest of the kingdoms quickly or that I am wrong about the severity of the coming season."

"Do all clans move south?" Sarah asked, changing the subject in the hopes of taking his mind off of those he ordered to remain behind.

Samoth nodded. "They do. We generally meet up in the southern reaches of our domain and camp together."

"Are there… are there a great many centaurs?" Sarah caught her breath. She was just getting used to being the only human in the rather large clan that she was traveling with. The thought of being gawked at by even more centaurs was daunting, to say the least.

Samoth smiled gently. "There are, but I would not worry over much, Sarah. You are a member of my household and will be treated as such."

Sarah twisted her hands together nervously. "When will we arrive at the gathering place?"

"Hmm. Several weeks more," he told her. Then he smiled and his mood brightened briefly. "You will be one of the few strangers ever to see the Henge."

"The Henge?"

"Yes. A circle of massive stones marks the center of the meeting place. They stand like sentinels, rising out of the grasslands, without another stone in sight. Legends say that the old ones placed them there to watch and mark the movements of the heavens." He gestured to the night sky.

Sarah looked up at the swirl of the galaxy and the thousands of winking stars and planets. The moon was no more than a sliver. She had never before seen the night sky so clearly, and she found herself wondering how the sky Above would compare. Were the stars so breathtaking there? Were the constellations the same?

Her musings were interrupted by Samoth. "Every year we hold a festival at the Henge to honor the Old Ones and the Fates. There will be music and storytelling, competitions and feasting. It is the highlight of the centaurs year. It is a time to renew friendships and come together as a race." His voice took on a nostalgic edge. "Many marriages take place at the winter festival. It is considered lucky for couples to join their futures together within the Henge."

Despite her nervousness, Sarah found herself excited by the prospect. There had been so few instances of celebration in her life since her first trip to the Underground. This festival sounded like the perfect way for her to continue to rebuild her life. Her attention was caught by Samoth's tone and she asked, "Were you married at the winter festival?"

"I was. Most of our people are." He smiled gently at the memory.

Sarah was about to ask him about his wife when his expression suddenly changed. The warmth drained out of his eyes and he sat rigidly, hardly breathing. Sarah was afraid to speak, not knowing what was going on. She sat, nearly as frozen as he was, gazing across the crackling fire at the aged centaur. He was staring fixedly into the flames without really seeing them. Shadows flickered across his face and Sarah shivered. As the minutes passed, a feeling of tension rose and she began to feel that odd disassociation, accompanied by the strange restlessness, that overtook her more and more frequently of late. It rose with her anxiety levels until she felt as though she was vibrating. Sarah began to breath hard as the edges of her vision began to darken and sparkle at the same time. The fire roared up and she was just on the verge of crying out for help when Samoth blinked and the feeling of tension broke.

Sarah struggled to calm herself, her heart racing. Seeing her distress, Samoth rose slowly and rounded the campfire, settling himself as close to where she was sitting as possible. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Sarah, I apologize for scaring you. There is no need to worry."

As the odd sensations faded, Sarah looked at the grandfatherly old centaur for a moment before scooting closer to him and hugging her knees to her chest, instinctively reverting to her old methods of self protection. He placed a calming arm around her shoulders. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Sarah chuckled slightly. "I should be asking you that," she said. She was vaguely surprised that her voice sounded so strong. She had expected it to come out shaky and terrified.

"That happens sometimes," he explained. "I've had a… premonition... I suppose you could say."

"So, you had a vision?" The more time that passed, the more normal Sarah felt. She shook off her worries about her recurrent episodes of whatever it was, and tried to focus on Samoth.

"Mmm. More like a feeling."

"About what?"

Samoth sighed. "It is hard to explain." Sarah glanced up at him pleadingly and Samoth rubbed his free hand over his face.

"Most of the time, the world moves at a steady pace. Nothing much happens and time passes quietly." He paused, and held his hands out to the fire, warming them. "Then there are times like this."

"Like what?" Sarah asked, confused. Things were always happening in the world, weren't they?

"Every so often, the pace of the world speeds up. Things go from ambling along steadily to an outright gallop in the blink of an eye. When that happens, there is often turmoil and strife. The world is not meant to change so quickly and that change is often messy and painful."

"So you think that this is one of the times when the world speeds up?"

"Yes. I fear that things have been going on that we have not been privy to." He sighed heavily and looked down at her. "Your coming to us here in is a sign that we can no longer remain isolated in the grasslands. The centaurs will be needed."

Sarah gaped at him. "So… are we returning to the north?" she asked, trying to grasp what he meant.

He shook his head. "No. We'll continue south." Seeing her look of confusion, he said, "I may have explained badly. Although momentous events are no doubt swiftly approaching, trying to force the change will only result in more strife."

Sarah huffed. "That doesn't make any sense. First, you say that the centaurs can't remain isolated, but in the next breath you say that we will simply continue on as if nothing is happening?"

He looked at her seriously. "Sarah, things will happen in the Fates own time. What sense is there in running off, looking for trouble?"

"Then what good is your premonition?" Sarah asked.

"When you know that a storm is coming, you prepare for it, yes? You gather your herds and strengthen the ties on your tent. You store your goods in a safe place and watch the sky for signs of trouble, ready to act to counter whatever nature throws at you, do you not?"

"I suppose..." Sarah said, comprehension slowly dawning. "So you are saying that there is wisdom in watching and waiting patiently."

"Not just waiting...  _preparing_ ," he corrected.

"How can we prepare when we don't know what is coming?"

"Now you see why I am anxious to hear what is happening in the rest of the Realms." Samoth said. He frowned. "I only hope that the news is not as dire as I fear."

"Me too." Sarah whispered. "Me too…"

* * *

Jareth stood at the window atop the highest tower in the Castle Beyond the Goblin City and watched the snowfall over the darkening Labyrinth He was absently spinning crystals in his hands as he did so. It was early for snow in the Goblin Kingdom, and none of it was sticking to the ground. Regardless, the mere fact that it was snowing this early in the year spoke of a tough winter to come.

If he squinted, Jareth could just see the closer sections of the newly repaired Labyrinth. Through sheer hard work, he had managed to repair most of the damage within the timeframe he had quoted to the Council. After realizing that the sections around the Bog of Eternal Stench were the most damaged, he had decided that it made the most sense to finish everything around the northwestern section, where the Bog was located, before tackling the more decrepit areas around the Bog itself. Now, everything was repaired, save that area. Of course, there was nothing actually under the Bog itself that needed to be repaired. There was barely enough solid land in the Bog for the path and the bridge, much less any buildings larger than a hovel. The soupy mess did not lend itself to underground passages.

Although he was fond of threatening his subjects with a dip in the Bog when they displeased him, Jareth really disliked getting close to it himself. It wasn't just the smell. There was a feeling that he got whenever he got close. A feeling of brooding and depression that he always had a difficult time dispelling afterward. Tomorrow, however, he would have to begin repairing the areas around that noxious swamp.

Abruptly ceasing his contemplation of the Labyrinth, Jareth tossed his crystals in the air, where they popped like soap bubbles. He turned away from the window and left the tower room. As he descended the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the stone stairwell, he turned his attention to other matters. He was not making as much progress with his betrothed as the Council would have liked.

Belinda was still distant, although Jareth thought that she was beginning to warm to him. At least she was making more of an effort to communicate with him via letter. She seemed to be completely immune to his charms in person, but wrote tolerably encouraging letters nonetheless. Jareth was having trouble reconciling the person he was coming to know in writing with the cold woman he was courting.

Jareth himself was just going through the motions of courting, without any of the feeling that usually accompanied the activity. Although his increased workload kept him from seeing her as often as he knew her father would have liked, he was scrupulous in his prompt replies to every letter or note Belinda sent.

As he entered his private chambers, his eyes fell on her latest letter, sitting open on the table where he had read it that afternoon. She had written of the many engagement parties that she had been attending in the Fairy Kingdom. Apparently, Shaylee was going all out in celebration of the coming union. Despite all the details, Jareth couldn't help but notice that there was something missing from her communications. Belinda never once mentioned his absence or wished for his presence.

He sat down at the table, and picked up her letter again. He had yet to reply to it. Much of his time that day had been spent out in the Labyrinth, making repairs. Then he had met again with Ethan and interviewed several candidates for the position as his personal secretary. There were some promising prospects, most notably a young man who was half Ifrit. Jareth was looking forward to the reduction in his workload that would take place once he chose a secretary and could transfer much of the day to day paperwork to him or her.

With a sigh, Jareth brought his attention back to the letter in his hand, scanning its contents once again. When he had formulated a reply, he put it down and picked up a pen. Sliding a clean piece of paper from a stack on the table, Jareth began his reply to Belinda:

_My dear Belinda,_

_I am happy to hear that you have been enjoying the parties and fetes thrown in your honor. I certainly hope that there are some things that I will enjoy among all of the gifts that you tell me we have been receiving. Perhaps something for you to wear on our wedding night?_

_I apologize for my continued absence, my duties here in the Goblin Kingdom, and on the Council, have kept me quite occupied. Regardless, I feel as though I have been neglecting you, despite our correspondence. Perhaps you would join me in Fialis for dinner with my parents soon?_

_Jareth_

Despite the warm words and suggestive content, Jareth felt rather detached as he read over it. It was short and to the point, like most of their correspondence. With a sigh, he folded it, dripped hot wax on it, and pressed his seal into it. Summoning a little Goblin, Jareth put the letter into its hands.

"Take this to Illetalos and deliver it to the Lady Belinda." Jareth skewered the little creature with a glare. "And this time, no stopping in the kitchens. I heard about your escapades in Shaylee's palace. She was not amused with your antics."

The small goblin paled at the king's tone. "Yes, Majesty!" he squeaked, edging toward the door.

"I mean it," Jareth barked. "You gave that poor scullery maid fits when she found you smearing jam all over the pantry floor."

"Dropped it... was only cleanin'!" the goblin whined. His eyes brightened. "Was tasty!"

With a growl, Jareth picked the little creature up by the ear. "Enough! You will go, deliver the letter, and return immediately, without any side adventures in the kitchens. If I hear otherwise, you will wish for a simple ducking in the Bog."

He dropped the little Goblin, who immediately disappeared with a frightened squeak. Once again left alone, Jareth rubbed his eyes tiredly. He was always tired these days. Despite his exhaustion, he was proud of himself. He had gone most of the day without dwelling on Sarah. Mostly, he was just too busy. Without the ache in his soul as a constant reminder of her absence, Jareth was able to move on… almost. There was still that slight tug whenever he thought of her. Like an itch that never went away, reminding him of her.

Rising, he moved through the sitting room and the bedroom, shedding clothing as he went. He entered the bathing chamber and filled the sunken tub with water. Catching sight of himself in the mirror he stopped, struck by the toll his workload was taking on him. His tired eyes were ringed by dark circles instead of gaudy makeup and his usually fluffy hair was scraped back into a utilitarian style that kept it out of the way. He looked haggard. He turned away from the mirror with a frown. Channeling that much magic was bound to take a toll, but the overall effect it was having on him was unexpected.

Sinking into the steaming water, Jareth sighed and closed his eyes. He leaned back in the water, allowing the heat to soak into his tired body. He was asleep in less than two minutes.

* * *

Jareth walked through a field of waving grass. He knew he was dreaming, but couldn't imagine why his tired mind would choose this particular setting. Pausing, he surveyed his surroundings. There wasn't much to see. The grass extended out into the hazy distance in all directions, without a rock or tree in sight. Deciding that there was nowhere to go, Jareth chose to forgo further walking.

Waving a hand, he conjured a crystal and tossed it on the ground. In short order, there was a cheerful fire blazing in a rough, stone lined pit. Next to it was an ornate divan, looking exceptionally out of place outdoors. Jareth chuckled as he sat on it. Dreaming had advantages.

He settled himself, half reclining on the divan, and closed his eyes. He felt a familiar tug at the still tender scar on his soul, but ignored it with practiced determination, choosing to remain where he was, eyes closed.

The wind sighed through the grass and Jareth could hear the sounds of small birds chirping. The sun was warm, but the air was cool and smelled of wet earth. Overall, it was a pleasant, if dull, dream. Jareth was lulled into a half conscious state as he lounged. He ignored the repeated jabs to his tender soul whenever a thought of Sarah crossed his mind.

When Sarah actually spoke from somewhere behind the divan, Jareth started into full awareness, nearly falling on the ground in the process.

"Well this isn't the kind of thing one usually sees outside."

His heart raced and he couldn't quell the joy that coursed through him at the sound of her voice. Despite his feelings, he didn't move. Instead, he ground his teeth, willing her to go away.  _This is just a dream_ , he reminded himself.  _Only a dream. And if I set my mind to it, I can push her out of it as easily as I pulled the couch in_. Still, he was hyper aware of her every move as she walked around the divan and stood over him.

No matter how hard he pushed, he couldn't seem to banish her. With a sigh, he opened his eyes. Sarah stood uncertainly next to the divan, her now familiar green cloak stirring slightly in the breeze. Slung across her back was a recurved bow, and there was a knife at her waist. Unlike the other times he had dreamed of her, and certainly in direct contradiction to the last time he had actually seen her, Sarah looked like someone who could take care of herself.

She raised her hands and pushed her hood back. Cocking her head to the questioningly, she asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Well I was taking a nap, until you came along to disturb me," he said.

"Here?" Sarah gestured to the empty landscape around them.

Jareth shrugged. "I suppose so."

"Hm," Sarah sniffed. Removing her bow, she settled cross legged on the ground next to Jareth's divan. She leaned against it and shook her hair back, then stilled. Minutes passed and neither of them said anything. The silence lengthened and began to grow awkward until the tension was so high that they both tried to speak at the same time, just to break it.

"Sarah, I-"

"I need to ask-"

Amused at the antics of his sleeping mind, Jareth gestured for her to continue. Sarah bit her lower lip and twisted her hands in her lap, but did not immediately speak up. Eventually she blurted out, "Do you know if Toby is ok?"

The question was so unexpected that Jareth gaped at her for a moment before gathering enough of his wits to consider an answer. In truth he had not given the boy a second thought in years.

"I'm sorry, Sarah, but I don't. I haven't been called Above for a long time."

Sarah's shoulders slumped. "Oh."

Not wanting to see her upset, even in his dreams, Jareth said, "I can check on him if you want." It wasn't that hard to make the offer. None of this was real after all. He probably should check on the boy anyway, for his safety.

She brightened slightly. Turning, she shot him a smile that made the sun seem dim. "Why are you still so nice to me, even when I've been such a horrible brat to you for years?"

"What do you mean nice?" he teased. "I'm the Goblin King! I can be cruel." For emphasis, he reached out and tugged gently on a lock of her hair.

Irritably she twitched her hair out of his gloved hand and shifted around on the ground, turning so that she could look up at him more easily. "I'm serious, Jareth." Her green eyes opened wide, imploring him to answer. For some reason, it seemed as though the answer to this question was very important to her.

_This is an absurd conversation and an ridiculous dream_ , he thought as he looked down at her upturned face. Even so, he couldn't bring himself to attempt to end it. As he did every time he dreamed of her, Jareth gave in to his feelings and reveled in her presence. He knew that as soon as he woke, he would resolve not to do this to himself again, but he couldn't make himself care, as long as he was with her.

"Sarah-" he began, rising from his recumbent pose to sit on the edge of the divan. He held out his hand, offering her a seat beside him. She hesitated for a moment before reaching out and grasping his gloved hand in her own. He noticed that the first three fingers of her right hand were newly callused, an odd detail for a dream. Once she was seated next to him, he refused to relinquish her hand. Instead, he turned it over and examined it, noting other signs of hard work on her formerly soft hands. He was fairly sure that these details had not been there when he had brought her Underground.

Sarah snatched her hand back after a few moments, turning red at his scrutiny. She rubbed her palms against the legs of her breeches, shifting away from him slightly. "Stop that and answer the question."

Everything I've done, I've done for you," he told her lightly.

"But why!" she pressed, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him. He laughed at the petulant look his non-answer provoked.

"Because you asked me to."

"Ugh," Sarah huffed. "Stop dancing around the issue. Why can't you just answer a simple question?" She stood and would have walked away from him if he hadn't grabbed her hand again.

"Sarah, wait." He tugged her hand and she reluctantly returned to her seat.

"You weren't the only one who behaved badly," he admitted looking down at their still joined hands. He traced the back of her knuckles with his leather clad thumb. "I did some… thoughtless and... cruel... things." The admission was difficult. The dream felt very real and he could almost believe that he was actually speaking to Sarah. Regardless, he wasn't used to owning up to mistakes and faults, even to himself.

As Sarah opened her mouth to reply, Jareth suddenly felt as though he were drowning. He gasped, fighting for air as Sarah, the waving grass, the crackling fire and the divan all disappeared in the blink of an eye. Jareth woke up with his face half submerged in his now tepid bathwater.

"Idiot," he grumbled when his coughing subsided. Jareth pulled himself out of the tub and toweled dry. "What an absurd way for a Fae king to die..."


	21. Corruption

**Disclaimer -**  We run and play in the Labyrinth, but we are just visitors here. We take nothing from this world except what we bring.

A/N - This chapter was always going to be a sticking point because it deals with some reveals that are difficult to handle while not screwing up the story arc. In order to get a better vision of what was to go on in this chapter, I have been doing a great deal of writing ahead. So, although you have not heard from me, I have been working on the story when I have been able to do so. So, please forgive my long silence... and know that I am sincerely grateful that you have returned.

BTW... this chapter is ridiculously long. It's too long, I know that. I just couldn't find a reasonable place to cut it so I left it alone. My apologies for the length, I hope its not too off putting.

**Warning**  - OK, once again, a trigger warning for fantasy violence. Nothing major, just small stuff. Never the less, I promised warnings, so there ya' go!

* * *

The Great Library, situated just outside the Dark Elven capital of Erisian, was an interesting place. When one first entered the building, the rooms were bright and soothing, with neutral colors to avoid distracting those who studied within. Massive tables and comfortable chairs were scattered throughout the large main rooms. Fireplaces burned in every corner, and the ceiling overhead was a massive domed skylight. The faceted crystal glass set into that skylight spawned rainbows all around the main room when the sun shone through. Several scriptoriums branched off of the main hall and the sound of pens scratching against parchment filled the quiet air. It was here that scholars from across the Realms came to learn the arts of illumination, copywork, and bookmaking from the Master Craftsman who tended to this vault of knowledge.

Past the main rooms and more commonly accessed sections of the library, the light levels diminished quickly. The solid stone structure had been built to protect the precious knowledge within from all manner of threats; time and fading chief among them. Once one passed under the last archway behind the public rooms and entered the real bulk of the Great Library, windows were nonexistent. Back here, room after room of books and scrolls sat in safe, quiet darkness, waiting for a time when they were needed. The only light came from the evenly spaced torches in the hallways and the heavy lanterns that were carefully carried into the rooms of books by robed academics.

Andris looked around as he and Conor were led into the deeper recesses of the massive stone building. He had never before been so deep within the Great Library. On the few occasions that he had visited in the past, the scholars had been more than happy to fetch him any book he asked for. He had never personally had to venture any deeper than a private study room just past the main area. This time, he and Conor were quickly ushered past both the public rooms and private studies. They were being escorted deep into the maze-like interior of the library that few ever had the privilege of seeing.

After passing what seemed like a hundred rooms and descending at least two sets of stairs, the newly arrived monarchs were shown into a room that contained nothing but a long table and some simple chairs. The solidly crafted lanterns that were used by the scholars in the deeper recesses of the library were set on stone pedestals and placed at regular intervals around the room, casting deep shadows into the stone corners.

The stone topped table that dominated the center of the room was piled high with books and scrolls. When the two monarchs entered, the room was occupied by just four people. Cieran and Rhiannon, the High King and Queen, were both present, as were their hosts Helimar and Twylithia, the king and queen of the Dark Elven kingdom.

As the door of the chamber closed behind Conor and Andris. Rhiannon raised tired eyes to the newcomers and gasped. With an alacrity that belied her exhausted appearance, she rose and made her way around the table. Stopping in front of Andris first, she stooped down to envelope the dwarf king in a fierce hug. "Thank the Fates! We got your message yesterday."

Andris chuckled and patted her back. "Eh, I'm too tough to kill, even for a nightmare."

Rhiannon rose and turned to Conor, also catching him in a hug. This was made somewhat awkward by the sling that still immobilized his arm. Convincing him to continue wearing the sling had taken a concerted effort on the part of several healers and the intervention of Andris himself.

"Rhiannon, ease up on the poor man!" Cieran exclaimed, also making his way around the table to greet the new arrivals. The High Queen reddened slightly and stepped back.

"It's all right, Cieran," Conor said, adjusting the sling. "I wouldn't even be wearing this damned contraption if I hadn't been bullied into it." He shot a glance at Andris, who ignored the jab and grasped the offered hand of his friend and liege in a firm grip.

"Was it as bad as the report made it out to be," Cieran asked him quietly while the rest of the group chuckled at Conor's pert remark and flooded the wounded monarch with questions about the battle.

Andris nodded, "It was. If it hadn't been for Conor I wouldn't be standing here, he saved my neck at least once. And when he was on the ground with that nightmare sitting on his chest, I thought for sure that was going to be the end of him. Luckily, he's tough." He shook his head, trying to dispel the memory before continuing, "Before I killed it, the nightmare spouted some nonsense about a Dark Lord and an Empty One who was coming… I've seen references to both in my studies. It might sound like nonsense, but maybe we will get some answers here." He gestured toward the materials pile high on the table as he moved to take the seat Cieran offered him.

"This is very troubling-" Cieran began, only to be interrupted when the door opened, its hinges emitting a shriek of protest at the movement. Andris, with his memories of the unearthly sounds made by the nightmare fresh in his mind, cringed as the sound echoed around him. He noticed Conor recoil and turn to face the door quickly, his good hand reaching for a sword that wasn't there. Although the sound the door made was a pale imitation of the chilling cries that they had faced on the battlefield, the noise of the hinges was similar enough to send a jolt of adrenaline shooting through Andris' chest.

Andris breathed deeply, trying to slow his racing heart as nothing more threatening than a group of robed scholars entered on the heels of the echoing screech. As he and Conor relaxed, the academics filed quietly past them toward the right side of the room. They stood silently against the rough hewn stone bricks of the wall with their hands folded neatly into their sleeves. The gathered monarchs moved to take seats at the opposite end of the table.

When they were all seated, Helimar smiled and said, "Excellent, now that we are all the here, we can begin."

"All here?" Conor asked, looking around in confusion. "Is this really everyone who is coming?"

The dark skinned elf king nodded, "Shaylee sent word that she had no interest in 'dry and dusty' academic theories and Diermuid told me not to waste my time chasing shadows."

"Of course they did." Andris chuckled, but the sound was strained as he fought his rising anger. Their obvious dismissal of the invitation rankled. In Andris' mind, it was clear that Diermuid and Shaylee were not taking the situation seriously.

Andris breathed deeply, trying to let his irritation go. Despite his best efforts, he could not resist a cutting remark. "In light of what's happened to us recently, I find myself utterly incredulous at their lack of faith." He made a short, choppy gesture indicating Conor's injuries and glowered at the tabletop as he spoke. An uncomfortable silence descended after he had spoken.

"Has there been any word from Avalon?" Conor asked suddenly.

Helimar smiled. "Your wife sent word. She is quite busy with the refugee camps and has begun erecting field hospitals and training new staff to run them. She sent us her regrets and a private, written message for you." Halimar produced a sealed letter, which he presented to Conor.

Conor took it with a smile and slipped it awkwardly into his vest, obviously still not used to working around the sling. "My thanks, Helimar. I will save this for later. I am sure the esteemed lore masters have much to tell us."

As they all settled into their seats, one of the scholars stepped forward. "As His Majesty commanded, we have spent weeks looking into the various prophecies."

Cieran interrupted. "Forgive me, but… various prophecies? I thought there was only a single one?"

"Unfortunately not, Your Majesty." The scholar bowed briefly to the High King before he spread his hands, indicating the table piled high with written materials. "In fact, we have not been able to find a single instance of completely identical prophecies. Although there are some common elements in many of them, they all appear to be unique to varying degrees. Some of them even appear to contradict each other."

The silence that descended on the room following the scholar's words felt hollow. Andris' spirits dropped even further. He had been so hopeful that this meeting would reveal the path they must take. They needed clear answers, not a puzzle of contradicting information!

"What do you mean by 'unique to varying degrees'," the High Queen asked. Rhiannon's face was pinched and her eyes looked haunted. Andris had noticed her exhausted looks earlier and he now wondered what ailed her.

"Well," answered one of the other scholars, stepping forward. "We have found that many of them have similar elements and make similar predictions, just with different wording. Some start out the same, but then veer off into another path altogether, while still others begin with different events, and then converge into a similar path later on."

"I see," Rhiannon said faintly. She closed her eyes briefly before opening them again. The others around the table watched her narrowly, wondering what was on her mind. She had never before seemed to put much stock in prophecies and the like. Her interest was perplexing to Andris. Of all of the rulers, he had always been the one to push the prophecy angle, largely owing to the influence of his superstitious grandmother.

"So, what do we know?" Twylithia cut in. "Should we be worrying about any of this, or should we be focusing our time and attention elsewhere?"

The loremasters all looked vaguely uncomfortable at the question. "It is hard to say, Your Majesty. We merely provide the information. We would not presume to tell you what to do with it."

Twylithia huffed in irritation at the unsatisfying answer. Helimar put a calming hand over hers before turning back to the scholars. "Does the prophecy connect, in any way, to the surge in raids and other violence that we have been seeing in the Underground?"

"There are several passages that may indicate that, yes."

"May indicate?"

Another of the scholars stepped forward. "Perhaps it would be easier if you were all able to read them for yourselves," she suggested, glancing toward the High King for approval.

Cieran nodded curtly. Scrolls and papers rustled as the scholars passed both their prepared notes and the originals around to the gathered monarchs. The flickering light of the lanterns sent shadows scurrying all around the room as everyone moved to take their copies and pass the extras on to their neighbor. For quite some time, silence reigned, save for the rustling echoes of paper that bounced off the stone walls as they all perused the materials the scholars had collected for them.

Although Andris had been disheartened by what the scholars had said regarding the prophecies, he was even more discouraged once he began reading them for himself. He had never considered himself a serious scholar, but he had been reasonably proud of his accomplishments along those lines. Reading through the prepared notes, he felt all of his pride vanish. The scholars had been right, they were contradictory, repetitive, and murky. Finally, he lit on a passage that seemed to offer some hope in their current situation.

"Should the Guardian defeat the King, then shall strife and division spread unchecked across the land. Seek ye a new alliance or fall to darkness... brace for the oncoming storm," Andris recited, looking up from the pile of papers in front of him. "That is at least somewhere to start."

As if his words were a signal, the others began to read aloud passages that had caught their eye, one after another.

"This, then, shall be a sign that the storm of storms is upon you. Madness will grip the Sisters, and they shall turn upon each other in a frenzy. Maladies beyond their discernment shall cut them down, and they shall cease to minister to their charge. Prepare then for the future, for this shall be but the first squall in the great tempest to come." Helimar read thoughtfully.

Conor then spoke, "Beware the manipulations of the Dark One, for he seeks to devour all. The Empty one shall come, bringing death with him."

There was a pause before Twylithia spoke, referencing yet another passage. "Should it come to pass that a mortal princess conquers the heart of the Labyrinth, then look ye to the seal, lest it crumble to dust and loose a horror upon the Realms. Then shall the heir be in grave danger, for the Dark One will seek to possess their body and banish their soul to walk the darkest path."

She shook her head, her face puzzled. "I have no idea what to make of this… the seal? The Heir? The Dark One? It all sounds like the nursery tales we were all told as children." At the other end of the room, the scholars shuffled their feet but said nothing.

The High King nodded. "It does all sound rather far-fetched. I personally wonder about several of these passages."

He glanced back down at the papers in front of him and read aloud. "Those bound by affection will find themselves at odds when they take up their roles. The alloy of their blood will mint a single coin, shining and light on one side, dark and despoiled on the other. Both shall seek the scion of an ancient house. The light shall seek for love, and the darkness shall seek to dominate. Woe unto both, for a force far more powerful than either side has flipped the coin, and it turns in the calm before the storm. He cares not which side comes out on top, but rather, fears the balance of the two."

Andris grunted and rolled his eyes. "Could that get any more convoluted?"

"There is no sense of time to any of this," Conor pointed out. "Many of the passages could apply to the past, the present, or even the future for all we know. How are we supposed to make sense of it?" He tossed the paper he had been holding back on the stack in front of him and leaned dejectedly back in his chair.

"Hm," Cieran hummed in agreement, still perusing the documents. "This one is interesting: The deceits of the past will bear fruit, and the impure Prince will take the throne. Great will be his power, yet even greater the risk. Oh beloved dissimulator, affectionate enemy! The counterfeit past will bring you both joy and sorrow, life and death. Though the trespass be not yours, that which was sundered may once again commingle through the suffering of your composite nature-"

The High King paused for a moment and then said, "It sounds like this one is speaking to one person in particular."

Twylithia was getting visibly impatient. "This is ridiculous! An affectionate enemy? It's drivel!"

Andris sighed and looked once more at Rhiannon, curious to know what passage had caught her eye. He was startled by what he saw. The High Queen was pale and her lips were trembling. She was staring, not at her copy of the prophecies, but at her husband with wide eyes.

"Rhiannon, are you alright?" Andris asked.

All eyes turned to the High Queen once again. She made a visible effort to bring herself back under control and grabbed her stack of papers. Taking a deep breath she said, "Um… yes. Yes, I'm fine. I was just… just thinking about this passage…" There was a long pause while she searched for the passage. Andris furrowed his brow as he watched.

Eventually, Rhiannon found a passage and read it aloud. "Should the Guardian fail to protect the heart, then the veil shall tear and what was divided will once again be one." With a still shaking hand, she put the papers back on the table in front of her and added, "That seems to fit nicely with the first passage that Andris brought to our attention. At least, it uses the same language."

"I suppose," muttered Twylithia. Then her voice rose, "I assume that the Guardian in this passage refers to the Airíoch, but, if you'll recall, no one has seen the line of the Lord Protector for centuries."

"That's true," Andris conceded. "However, if what Jareth told us is accurate, the Labyrinth itself has commanded we seek out the Guardian. The line must still be intact somewhere, although I don't know which 'king' the Airíoch is supposed to defeat. I read that last passage to mean that the Airíoch is meant to protect the Croí Foinse. Although, I suppose there could be an alternate meaning if you want to read into it."

As he spoke, Andris swept his eyes around the table. He happened to be looking at Rhiannon when she opened her mouth as though to interrupt. When the High Queen noticed his eyes on her, she snapped her mouth shut again and looked down at her lap, avoiding his gaze.

Cieran noticed her movement. "Rhiannon?"

The High Queen sighed and looked around. After a pause, she seemed to come to some sort of decision and sat straighter. She compressed her lips into a tight line and folded her hands on the table before glancing in the direction of the scholars who were still standing silently against the wall.

They bowed in unison. "We will wait outside, some distance down the hallway," the woman informed them. "If we are needed again, we will be easily found." With that, the robed academics exited the room quickly.

Once the door had closed behind the scholars, Rhiannon spoke again. "What I am about to tell you is not to go beyond this room." She speared each person around the table with her glance. They all recognized that she was speaking with the authority of the High Queen, a power she almost never used. She paused to ensure that everyone understood her and then continued.

"As you should be aware, Jareth is infatuated with that mortal girl who beat the Labyrinth. What my husband knows, and you do not, is that I spent some time and effort in tracking this mortal girl down after Jareth and Cieran had their little falling out several years ago." She inclined her head to Cieran, who nodded and gestured for her to continue.

Andris' eyebrows rose in surprise. That must have taken a great deal of effort. Rhiannon was not particularly gifted in magical abilities. In fact, she was fairly untalented, and hardly ever bothered with magic as a result. He cast his thoughts back and remembered when the High Queen had been 'ill' and kept to her rooms. Now that he thought about it, the timing of that illness coincided with the period after her visit to the Goblin Kingdom.

Rhiannon reached out and laid a hand over Cieran's arm, drawing the dwarf king's attention back to what was going on in the room. "There are several things that I have been keeping to myself about this girl, Sarah." She looked apologetically at her husband who raised his eyebrows slightly at her admission but said nothing. "The most important fact is that Sarah is of the line of William the Wise."

There was a stunned silence in the room.

"You mean that the Champion of the Labyrinth is actually the Airíoch!?" Twylithia yelped in surprise, shooting to her feet. "Why didn't you say anything when the Council was discussing the search for the ancestors of the Lord Protector?"

Rhiannon shrugged. "It wouldn't have done much good, and could have done great harm. We already knew that Sarah was in the Underground, and that she had been… shall we say, misplaced, by Diona. Getting everyone worked up by telling them that she was also the Airíoch would have done nothing to find her faster, and it might have landed her in the hands of those we would rather not see the Airíoch fall into, particularly this Airíoch."

Everyone thought about that for a moment, and there were several nods around the table. Twylithia huffed and then sat back down, crossing her legs. "You're right, as usual," she conceded. "Still, we had better make more of an effort to find her."

Rhiannion nodded. "What else have you been keeping to yourself?" Cieran asked curiously.

She sighed and gave him a small, sad smile. "While Sarah was here, Jareth was stupid enough to allow her to eat food made in the Underground." There was a collective gasp from around the table.

"Idiot," muttered Andris.

At his side, Conor replied, "Indeed."

Hearing the exchange, Rhiannon smiled. "Yes, it wasn't his smartest move, but it was what made me wonder about her heritage. Why did she survive when most mortals would have perished within the year? Without that little lapse in judgment on Jareth's part, I likely would never have made this discovery."

"She must have suffered terribly," Helimar said quietly.

Rhainnon looked around the room, her eyes full of sorrow. "Yes, she has. When she was returned to her world, the mortals deemed her insane and locked her away in hospitals. Her inability to eat did not help that, nor did her ability to see faerie creatures. When I last saw her, she was not very strong, mentally or physically."

There was silence in the room as everyone pondered the ramifications of this new information. Andris couldn't even begin to work his way through all of the ways this information changed things. He was still trying to wrap his head around it when the dark elven queen spoke.

"That's a very bad thing." She shuffled the stack of writings she was looking through, rereading some passages of the prophecy. "There are several passages that indicate the need for a strong Airíoch."

"Only one with a will of iron can protect the legacy of the Lord Protector from those who seek to use it to their advantage. Seek her out, lest they fall under the dominion of darkness and deliver the inheritance unto the Empty One, who desires power above all else," Helimar quoted.

"Yes," agreed Twylithia. "There is another that concerns me more, however. 'Should the line of Guardians fail, the heart shall be broken and darkness shall cover the land in an unending storm. But woe betide you should one submit to the evil that sweeps across the land, for then nothing can stop the flood, and all shall be devoured by the darkness to come.'"

"Fates preserve us." Conor muttered. Andris couldn't help but agree.

"We must put serious effort into finding her before others can." He looked squarely at Rhiannon and Cieran. "I hate to be blunt, but I don't think that your younger son has good intentions when it comes to this girl. I think he is a real danger and under no circumstances should Mathyn be allowed anywhere near the Airíoch."

The High King and Queen nodded in agreement. Cieran added, "We also need a better copy of the prophecies." He briefly lifted the pile in front of him and let it fall back onto the table before rising and striding to the door of the chamber. He opened it and spoke into the dim hallway. The others listened in silence as he conferred with the scholars in the hallway for several minutes before returning.

"They say that the best chance to get a clean prophecy is with the Centaurs, as much of it came from them in the first place." Cieran informed them as he resumed his seat.

"Why am I not surprised," Andris said, sighing in irritation. "The clans are going to be very hard to find this time of year."

"Nevertheless, I will send emissaries to Elder Samoth once again. With luck, they will find someone in the grasslands.

"I hope so," Andris said, picking up his own stack of papers once again. Now, I think we need to turn our attention to any passages in here that could possibly pertain to the Airíoch." He waved his the stack in the air and looked around the table.

"We also need to discuss what can be done about Mathyn before he causes more trouble," Helimar reminded them.

There were groans and sighs from most of the people in the room. No one noticed that Rhiannon sat silently, staring fixedly at a certain passage of prophecy, lost in thought.

* * *

Rhiannon rubbed a hand over her tired eyes. It was all just too much. Now that she had actually seen the prophecies, she was sure that it was all real. That line about the deceits of the past and the impure Prince haunted her as the talk about how to find Sarah and flush out her younger son continued around her.

Her mind drifted back to the boys' childhood. With the time and distance came clarity, and she could now see that her younger son had been headed down the wrong path almost from the start.

_Jareth was so excited to have a brother_ , she thought. Rhiannon smiled slightly at the memory of his excitement the morning that they had told him he was to expect an addition to their family.

_Little Jareth, just three years old, was perched on a specially made cushion at the dining table. His feet bounced up and down while he chattered away at his parents as they ate their breakfast. His hair, already long and wild, generally stood up all around his head but was squashed down on one side, the result of sleep._

_"So I TOLD Ethan that I was gonna catch me a bug and make Dee-dee yell…"_

_"Deirdre, Jareth," Cieran corrected, looking up briefly from a pile of reports he was going over while he ate. "She is the daughter of the High Priestess and will someday be High Priestess herself. It is not fitting for you to address her that way."_

_"But she SAID we could!" Jareth pouted at his father, his still chubby face screwing up into a scowl that looked nearly identical to that of his father._

_"Dierdre did tell the boys to call her Dee-dee, Dear." Rhainnon choked back a laugh at the matching expressions on the faces of the two dearest men in the Underground. "He and Ethan were having so much trouble saying Dierdre, that she decided to let them simplify it. There is plenty of time for him to learn proper address as he gets older."_

_She turned to her meal, but the thought of eating made her ill. She was well into the second trimester, but the morning sickness had not stopped. Cieran noticed her grimace and placed a comforting hand over hers, completely ignoring the paperwork that he had been so engrossed in a few moment ago. She smiled weakly at him, swallowing hard and pushing her plate away. Cieran summoned a servant and requested some ginger tea for his wife._

_Jareth, all too perceptive for his age, had missed little of the exchange. He stopped shoveling his porridge into his mouth, and asked, "Why's Mummy so sick every day Daddy?"_

_There was a pregnant pause. "Because you are going to have a little brother or sister in a few months," Rhiannon answered brightly. She held her breath, unsure of how he was going to react. When they had discussed telling their young son about the pregnancy, they had planned ways to make it seem more exciting for him. Jareth had been an only child and was spoiled as only the firstborn of a royal couple could be. They were prepared for anger, jealousy, sibling rivalry, and tantrums. They were not prepared for excitement._

_"Really!" Jareth dropped his spoon with a clatter and squirmed out of his seat, sliding to the floor with a thump. He ran around the table and threw himself on her still only slightly protruding stomach, hugging it fiercely. "I'm gonna potect my little brother and show him everything!" he exclaimed._

_Rhiannon and Cieran exchanged looks that were both shocked and amused at the young prince's reaction. "What if it is a girl?" Cieran asked._

_"I'd potect her too!" Jareth said proudly, patting her tummy and smiling up at her. Rhiannon smiled back and felt her heart swell with love. "But it's gonna be a brother," Jareth reiterated with absolute conviction_.

True to his word, Jareth had been Mathyn's protector and companion from the moment he was born. He couldn't wait for Mathyn to be old enough to join him in play and learning, and he doted on his little brother from the first day. He had been every mother's dream of a first child. There was none of the jealousy or hurt feelings that she had been told were common when a new sibling first makes an appearance. With Jareth, there was only love and devotion.

For the first four years, Mathyn followed Jareth everywhere, and her eldest took it all in stride. Rhiannon and Cieran had been incredibly proud of Jareth and had not kept that fact from either of their sons. Not that they weren't proud of Mathyn, because they were, and had also praised his accomplishments. They had tried to avoid any favoritism, but it was unavoidable that Jareth, as the heir to the High Throne, would receive considerably more attention as the boys got older. Sadly, the love and devotion that Jareth displayed toward his younger brother would eventually cease to be reciprocated.

_Four year old Mathyn and seven year old Jareth were playing outside the council chamber. Jareth was telling Mathyn stories to go along with the intricate carvings on the closed doors. Rhiannon was sitting on a bench beside the doors, watching the boys at play. She had given Dierdre the afternoon off. It was a special day, after all. The boys didn't know it yet, but their paths were about to diverge. It was time for the eldest son of the High King to start down the road that would eventually lead to the throne._

_The door opened and both boys fell silent as Theodas exited the council chamber and stood before them. "Your Highness," he said, bowing to Jareth. "His Majesty requests your presence._

_Jareth stood straighter and his boyish face became serious. He nodded and stepped forward. Mathyn also tried to step forward, aping his brother by standing as straight as he could, but Rhiannon gently restrained him._

_"Not yet, Mathyn. This is just for Jareth," she said, attempting to hug her younger son._

_"NO!" the younger prince cried._

_Jareth paused on the threshold of the council chamber and looked back at his sibling. "Don't be sad, Mattie. I'll be right back and we can play some more." He gave his brother a wink and then disappeared into the council chamber."_

_"No! NO NO NO!" Mathyn screamed as the doors closed, leaving him outside with his mother._

At the time, Rhiannon had assumed that the temper tantrum was simply the result of being excluded or of losing his playmate for the day. Looking back now, she realized that it was the first major taste Mathyn had ever had of what it meant for him to be the second born. Over the next several years, the open, affable little chap that they had come to know turned into someone else altogether. He strove to outdo his older brother in everything, wanting to prove that he could do anything Jareth did, but better. Jareth, wanting to be kind, often allowed his little brother to win, a fact that Mathyn seemed to be aware of. This did nothing to assuage Mathyn's feelings of jealousy, or his need to prove himself better than his older brother.

_Rhiannon sat anxiously with Cieran outside Jareth's bedroom as the healers examined their son. She had never been so terrified in her life as when she had arrived at the edge of the palace grounds to find Jareth holding a crystal of pure free magic in his bloodied hands. She sat, rocking her body gently backward and forward on the chair that someone had fetched for her, hands clasped and raised to press against her lips, praying to the Fates that Jareth would be alright. At her side, Mathyn lounged against the wall, looking bored as only a seven year old boy can when forced to be somewhere he doesn't want to be._

_Cieran sat silently, across the hall, his leg bouncing up and down while he rubbed his temples and muttered under his breath._

_Mathyn sighed heavily. "What's the big deal? He lived. I bet I could do it too!"_

_Rhiannon looked in horror at her younger son. Knowing his penchant for competing with Jareth, she was suddenly very afraid that Mathyn would do something he would regret. Before she could say a word, her husband spoke up. "Don't you dare! Your brother was reckless and foolish, and he is lucky to be alive." His voice was harsh, yet Rhiannon could hear the worry in it._

_Mathyn scowled and shrugged. Clearly, he heard only that he was once again forbidden to do something that his elder brother did. The fact that they feared for his life was obviously lost on him. Cieran looked as though he would say more but was interrupted by the healer, who emerged from Jareth's room._

Rhiannon leaned forward and placed her arms on the cold stone of the table. She rested her chin on her crossed arms and stared at the flame in the lantern that had been moved to the table. Lost in memories, she continued to ignore the discussion going on around her.

_For the next several days Rhiannon was just as worried about Mathyn as she had been about Jareth. While Jareth was marveled over and hailed as a prodigy, Mathyn lurked on the outskirts, growing increasingly jealous of the attention Jareth was receiving. Jareth himself, while enjoying the attention to some degree, was becoming impatient with the constant demands on his time._

_Rhiannon was watching Mathyn from an upper window. Her son had been moping in the courtyard below, moodily kicking stones and swinging his wooden practice sword around halfheartedly. As she watched, she noticed a furtive movement in the doorway across the way. It was Jareth. He slipped quickly out into the courtyard and glanced around. Rhiannon watched his face light up when he saw his brother._

_Jareth crossed to where Mathyn was still sulking and spoke. Rhiannnon couldn't hear what was said, but Mathyn's expression made it clear that whatever he said to Jareth was scathing. Jareth was clearly taken aback by the attitude of his brother and was attempting to reason with him when Mathyn yelled at him. Rhiannon could just make out the words._

_"Shove off, Jareth. Don't you have hordes of people waiting to fawn all over you?"_

_Jareth's reply was too soft for his mother to hear, but it did not diffuse the situation. "Fuck Off!" Mathyn yelled, shoving his brother to the ground before running off. Jareth looked after him, hurt and shock writ large across his face._

As the years passed and the boys grew into young men, Rhiannon watched her youngest become a covetous and secretive adult. Although he enjoyed all of the privileges and rights that came with being the son of the High King, it had never seemed to be enough for Mathyn. He seemed to be avaricious by nature. If Jareth had or accomplished something, Mathyn had to have it or do it as well. Alternating between sullen brooding and outrageous bravado, Mathyn was always trying to take over the spotlight from his brother.

Jareth's attitude about the whole situation wasn't helpful either, although Rhiannon was sure that he bore his brother no ill will. Jareth viewed the entire rivalry as a joke and good naturedly congratulated his brother whenever Mathyn managed to best him. Often, Jareth would turn around and challenge his brother to a rematch, only to trounce him, making it clear that he allowed Mathyn to win the first time. Looking back, Rhiannon could see that both the congratulations and his inability to consistently best his older brother grated on Mathyn. Many times over the course of the last three hundred years, Rhiannon wished that she had taken note of the warning signs and intervened in some way. She wished that she had spoken up before it was too late, even if only to warn Jareth that his brother did not view him in the friendly light her elder son thought he did.

Everything had changed between the brothers on the night they celebrated both Jareth's thirty first birthday and his victory over the Labyrinth.

_The party was in full swing. Jareth flirted and danced his way through the Court, enjoying the admiration and attention his new position as the Goblin King afforded him. Rhiannon and Cieran sat on a raised dais at the head of the room, not partaking in the revelry that surrounded them._

_"When was the last time anyone saw him?" Cieran asked, leaning closer to his wife and keeping his voice low. There had already been murmurs about the absence of their second son. They did not want any more rumors to start flying around._

_"No one has seen him since before Jareth left to challenge the Labyrinth," Rhiannon replied, also keeping her voice low. Tears stood in her eyes. She was worried about her younger son. As the years had passed, he seemed to grow darker… angrier. Rumors had started to circulate about his odd tastes and diversions, rumors that he had always brushed aside and denied when questioned, but that still persisted nonetheless. He came to resent the questioning and spent more and more time alone, brooding in his rooms, which he allowed no one to enter. Rhiannon didn't know how to help him anymore. He was beyond her reach and moving further away all the time. It had gotten to the point that she was almost afraid of her own child._

_"Where was he seen?" Cieran pressed._

_"He was seen on horseback, following Jareth just a few hours after he left for the Labyrinth. I've heard a report that he was seen again, lurking around the north edge of the Labyrinth and heading north from there, toward the mountains." Rhiannon closed her eyes, sending a prayer to the Fates that her younger son would return soon._

_Cieran growled under his breath and leaned back in his throne. As the the music died down once again, the dancing stopped and the guests applauded the musicians. They chattered and laughed as they moved to take their places for the next dance._

_The musicians had only played a few notes when the music came to an abrupt halt and an unnatural hush spread through the crowd. Taking note of the odd silence, Rhiannon opened her eyes to see a strange black and red swirling cloud forming in the center of the dance floor. It was not far from where Jareth was standing, surrounded by a bevy of admirers._

_The feel of free magic emanated from that cloud... free magic mixed with something much darker and far more ancient than anything Rhiannon had ever encountered before. She shivered and her stomach dropped when a voice rang out from the cloud._

_"Congratulations… my brother."_

_Jareth jerked and stepped closer to the magic that was just beginning to dissipate. Like everyone else, he had turned to stare when the magic first began to gather. Unlike everyone else, he had also summoned a crystal of free magic, which he held ready to unleash on any perceived threat._

_A figure stepped out of the magical cloud, his hard heeled boots striking the floor, his footsteps echoed off the ceiling; the only sound in the crowded room. A black cloak swirled the last remnants of magic around him as he stepped toward Jareth, a sinister smile on his face. It was Mathyn._

_Cieran stood and strode across the ballroom floor to stand next to Jareth, who had tossed his magical crystal in the air, allowing it to dissipate as soon as Mathyn came into view. Rhiannon wanted to rise and go with him, but a rising feeling of horror kept her seated. Her prayers had been answered and her youngest son was home, but he was no longer the son she knew. This was undeniably Mathyn, and yet, somehow, not him. This person was twisted and dark in a way that the younger prince had not been before he left to follow his brother on the road to the Labyrinth. Despite her limited magical abilities, she could feel the tainted aura that emanated from her younger son as he stepped closer to his brother._

_"Mattie!" Jareth stepped forward to embrace his brother. "Where have you been? We've been worried."_

_Mathyn stepped back, glaring at Jareth, who stopped short at the look on his brother's face. "I've told you not to call me that," he snarled._

_Rhiannon felt as though she was watching a nightmare playing out right before her very eyes. She knew what was happening, but did not feel at all connected to the events unfolding before her. For some reason, it looked as though no one else felt quite the same aura of menace emanating from her son as she did. Although Jareth's smile had dropped at Mathyn's tone, he did not seem unduly perturbed in his brother's presence. Her eyes moved to her husband. Cieran did not seem to notice anything unnatural about their younger son either. If he had, she was certain that he would be as horrified as she was._

_Cieran crossed his arms over his chest. "Where have you been?"_

_Mathyn ignored his father. His eyes swept the room, his lip curling in contempt at the scene and his eyes darkening at the sight of the celebration in honor of Jareth. Finally, his eyes landed on Rhiannon._

_"Mother," he said, making his way toward the dais where she still sat on her throne, shocked at the change in him. Rhiannon watched her son approach, unable to move or even take her eyes off of her suddenly menacing offspring. Although Rhiannon was only peripherally aware of her husband, she could tell that he was furious but trying not to let his temper get the better of him in this public setting. As Mathyn passed his father, Cieran tried to grab him by the arm. A sudden blast of the same twisted free magic that brought Mathyn into the ballroom blew through the crowd like a hot wind, emanating from the prince. It pushed everyone back a few paces and a shudder of fear went through the revelers. Those closest to Mathyn, including Jareth and the High King were knocked to the floor by the force of the unexpected magical blow._

_"Father!" Jareth exclaimed, struggling to his feet and moving to kneel by the High King's side. Blood trickled from Cieran's nose as he lay still, unmoving, while Jareth searched anxiously for signs of life._

_Mathyn ignored both his father and his brother as he continued to approach Rhiannon. Pandemonium erupted throughout the room. Women screamed hysterically and everyone shoved and jostled each other as they made for the exits, frantic to get as far away from the prince as possible._

_The furor seemed distant to her as Rhiannon watched Mathyn. Her feelings of horror and dread intensified as he came closer and she could not stop a whimper from escaping her as she shrank back in her throne._

_Stopping only a few feet away from her, Mathyn spread his arms, inviting an embrace. "Have you no welcome for me, Mother?"_

_Rhiannon did not reply and Mathyn dropped his arms. "Aren't you proud of me, Mother? I too have mastered free magic! I'm as powerful as my brother! Am I not worthy to sit in my father's seat?"_

_He stepped up onto the dais and seated himself on the throne next to her. Dimly, Rhiannon was aware that Jareth had risen from his father's side and now stalked toward them, free magic blazing in his hands and fury in his eyes..._

Rhiannon was jarred out of her memories by a nudge and her husbands voice calling her name. When she looked up, everyone was staring at her.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I haven't been paying much attention."

"We know," Andris said drily. "We were discussing the fact that General Ethan seems to think that Sarah is somehow a danger to Jareth. He wrote me, wanting me to intervene and try to talk some sense into him. It seems the Goblin King is disinclined to listen to his chief advisor." Andris rolled his eyes.

"We wanted your opinion on the matter," Helimar said.

"A danger?" Rhiannon repeated dully, her mind somehow unable to grasp what was being said over the tumult of her memories and the endless repetition of that damn line from the prophecy. Once she had allowed herself to sink into her thoughts, she seemed to be unable to connect to what was going on around her.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Cieran asked her sharply. She forced herself to focus on her husband, giving herself a mental slap and a very real pinch to her inner arm to bring herself back to the present task.

"Yes… yes, I'm fine."

"So, is Sarah a danger to Jareth or not? You are the only one of us who's even seen this girl. She certainly did defeat him, which the prophecy seems to indicate is what touched off the latest round of raids and violence, but it doesn't automatically follow that he is in danger from her," Twylithia said.

"No, Sarah isn't a danger. Nor is her little brother," Rhiannon added.

"I was under the impression that he was only her half brother. Why would he have anything to do with this?" Conor asked curiously.

"Because he is also descended from William the Wise. The blood of the Guardians was passed to them both from the paternal line. Thus, young Tobias also has to potential to become the Airíoch should the need arise. Although, from what I understand, just having the blood is no guarantee that the Labyrinth will accept you."

"Ah, then perhaps we should also consider doing something about the boy as well," Conor suggested. "If you could find him, then it is possible that others could as well."

"I agree with Conor," Andris stated, absently tapping his fingers on the table. I don't believe either of the Williams children are a threat, exactly, but they do bear watching. Sarah, at least, seems to be very important. And both she and her brother could be a powerful force here in the Underground. We must make sure that they are brought into the right side of this situation."

"I don't know that I would go that far," Rhiannon said, still struggling to focus on the conversation. "But for his own safety, as well as ours, I think that we should keep an eye on Toby."

"What will we do about Mathyn?" Twylithia asked again. "Besides Jareth, no one seems to have seen him in nearly three hundred years. Where do we even begin to look?"

"I don't know, but I suggest we all begin immediately, even before the next meeting in Fialis," Andris said. "The same goes for finding this girl. She is important to both Jareth and Mathyn. It is imperative that we find her before they do."

"While I would tend to agree with you, I think you are too worried about…"

The question answered, Rhiannon allowed her mind to wander once again, pondering the past and the transgressions secreted there.

* * *

Diermuid sat moodily in the saddle, surrounded by chattering courtiers. He had been ignoring the other members of his court for the entire hunt. After a few of his companions had been soundly rebuffed when they approached him, most of them decided that it was prudent to avoid bothering their king with trivial conversations. While the rest of the court enjoyed the crisp air and the thrill of the hunt, Diermuid rode silently, sunk so deep in thought that he was barely paying attention to his surroundings.

He was ruminating on his strange behavior lately. He couldn't even begin to imagine what had possessed him to champion a marriage between Jareth and that girl, Belinda. The marriage did nothing to advance his own power and prestige. He had no hold over the girl, or her unctuous father. In fact, there were several young women within his own kingdom who would have been a far better match for the Crown Prince than some nitwit nonentity from the Fairy Kingdom, no matter who her father was. He could not for the life of him figure out what had made it seem like an attractive match.

He had replayed what he could remember of the afternoon that he had met with Shaylee and Gethin over and over in his mind. No matter how many times he did so, he could come up with nothing that was compelling enough for him to have agreed to push for the betrothal as he had. He could remember his conversation with Shaylee, and he remembered nearly laughing in her face as she tried to convince him to put Belinda's name forward as the only possible match for Jareth. After that, he had dismissed the notion... hadn't he?

Up ahead, the huntsman once again blew discovery and the court surged forward amidst the excited barking of the hounds. Diermuid was forced to attend to the hunt, lest his horse sweep him out of the saddle on a low hanging branch or some other, equally stupid, accident befell him. Still, he was preoccupied enough that he did not find the hunt as entertaining as he usually did. In fact, he remained closer to the back of the group, rather than claiming his usual place in the lead. He even allowed others to claim the kill, something he almost never did.

Once the stag had been cornered and dispatched, the hunting party turned to head toward the pavilion where lunch was to be served. Diermuid, tired of the noise and distraction of his couriers, rode ahead with only a pair of bodyguards for escort. He was well in advance of the rest of the hunting party when he reached the pavilion that had been erected in the picturesque meadow just that morning. Dismounting, he tossed the reins to one of his bodyguards and ducked into the palatial canvas structure.

The unexpected arrival of their king sent the servants who were still preparing for the influx of nobility scurrying quickly to accommodate his needs. Where he would usually have been impatient and demanding, Diermuid was still so lost in his thoughts that he barely noticed their activities. One servant found him a place to sit, while another brought wine for him to drink, nervously apologizing that the noon meal was not yet ready. Diermuid absently waved away the apologies without comment and the servant went away, breathing a sigh of relief. He recounted the amazing tolerance of the king to his fellow menials in the open air kitchen that had been erected out the back of the large pavilion. The were all shocked and somewhat unnerved by this unexpected lenience.

"Must be somethin' up," one of the cooks said.

"Maybe, maybe not," retorted a maid. "Maybe he's just testin' us?"

"Well, either way, it ain't no business of ours," said another. "We'd best be getting on with our duties." They all nodded in agreement and another servant was sent off to place a brazier closer to the king to ward off the chill that still lurked in the air, despite the bright sun.

When they were certain that he did not need anything else, the servants rushed off, anxious to finish their preparations before the rest of the party arrived. Diermuid stared into the flames crackling merrily in the brazier, and went back over that afternoon meeting with Shaylee and Gethin again, muttering quietly to himself as he did so.

"...Spoke with… Nearly laughed… tried to dismiss them… congratulated Belinda…"

As his mind wandered over that meeting, he got the sense that there was a large chunk of time missing. When he tried to remember what had happened in that time period, all he got was darkness and a vague sense of anxiety that seemed to have no origin. However, there was nothing to explain why he had experienced a change of heart regarding the proposal that Shaylee and Gethin had made. It seemed as though one minute he was ready to laugh them out of his office, and the next he was offering his hearty congratulations to the only possible choice for Jareth's wife. The whole thing made no sense. It was as if he had been manipulated in some way, but he couldn't figure out how.

Diermuid briefly wondered if he was going insane.  _Perhaps I should consult with a healer,_  he thought. He thought about that for a few more seconds before scoffing at the notion of admitting to a healer that he seemed to have lost a chunk of time. It wasn't as though it was a physical ailment, or even a recurring one. In fact, it was probably nothing.

Dismissing that entire line of thinking with a grimace, Diermuid thought about the now well established betrothal, wondering if there was any way he could break it off. He couldn't find any reasonable objection to the girl, other than the fact that she did not further his own ambitions.

Diermuid sighed, besides, retracting his support for the marriage  _now_  would be… problematic. At the very least, he would lose face on the Council, something he currently could not afford. It would also make Gethin an enemy. Generally, something so insignificant as the enmity of another nobleman wouldn't bother him in the slightest, but Gethin was somehow different. For some reason, Diermuid got the distinct feeling that he would not want Gethin as an enemy. He didn't really want him as a friend either. Something about the man was very off putting. Yes, Gethin aside, it would not be wise to retract his support at this time.

_Especially with Jareth doing a more than creditable job at completing the necessary repairs_ , he thought sourly. His intention had been to bring shame on Jareth, and by extension, the High King with his accusations of neglect and misconduct. Things were not working out the way he had hoped. Rather than being able to swoop in and correct the situation himself, he was being forced to sit back and watch while Jareth stepped up and did the things that he should have been doing all along.

He grimaced as he recalled the outcome of that disastrous Council meeting he had called. His one arguable victory from that day had been securing the very betrothal he was now regretting. If one took a pragmatic look at the results of that meeting, Diermuid actually came out looking rather worse than he had gone in. The Wood Elven King gripped his goblet tightly. All of his plans for gaining power and advancing his views of the Underground appeared to have come to naught. He had failed in shaming the High King's family, and failed to establish a need for displacing Jareth. In fact, his machinations had induced Jareth to take up his Council seat, earning Diermuid yet another opponent on the High Council. He should have anticipated that outcome, but he had become too used to Jareth focusing on the Goblin Kingdom and leaving Cieran to deal with the Underground as a whole. He now regretted his shortsightedness. It was obvious that the heir to the High Throne could not have remained aloof from the Council and the day to day leadership of the Underground forever.

As if all of that hadn't been bad enough, Diermuid had also failed in his bid to control the next High Queen, and he now faced an annoying inquiry into his intelligence service thanks to his failure to control his temper and his tongue. The very thought of it was enough to make him want to fling the goblet across the table.

Diermuid released the goblet from the death grip he was holding it in and placed it on the table. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself as he rolled his shoulders to dispel the tension that had built up in his muscles. No good would come of giving in to his impulse to throw things. He needed to keep a cool head and think. He must find another way of gaining more power and influence if he was to return things in the Underground to the way they were supposed to be.

He slumped in his chair, considering several strategies, one after another, rejecting each one in turn. Try as he might, Diermuid could see no way to advance his cause at present. When he heard footsteps approaching, he ignored them, expecting that it was just a servant coming to refill his goblet. He pushed his goblet closer to the edge of the table without a word. After several moments, the King noticed that the servant had not refilled the goblet or left, but rather, was standing silent, awaiting his notice.

"What?" he growled irritably, glancing up at the person standing next to him. His eyebrows rose when he beheld Leofrick standing next to the table with a wide grin on his face.

"How did you find me and what are you so pleased about?' Diermuid asked, surprised at the sudden appearance of the former spy and assassin.

Leofricks grin widened. "You should know that I always keep track of your whereabouts, My King. It behooves me to know where you are at all times. As your Chief Intelligence Officer, I keep track of everything that could be to your advantage."

"And I take it that you have heard something today that would be to my advantage?" Diermuid asked, his voice dry as he gestured for the man to take a seat opposite him.

Leofrick bowed and his grin widened as he took his seat. "Indeed. I've had some news from my contact in the Castle Beyond the Goblin City."

Diermuid sat upright, and his eyes brightened at the news. Leofrick leaned forward conspiratorially. "My contact tells me that Jareth and the runner are more intimately connected than it first appeared. She overheard him telling the Revered Priestess about his dreams of the Champion in hopes of getting Diona's interpretation of them. From what she heard, my contact can only conclude that the Goblin King is very much in love with the mortal."

Diermuid's mouth dropped open slightly and he sat back in his chair, stunned. He didn't know whether he wanted to recoil from the news that the heir to the high throne would debase himself so badly as to love a mortal, or relish the opportunity that had suddenly fallen into his lap. His mind worked through the possibilities. After a few seconds, he threw his head back and roared with laughter. "I knew it!" he chortled. "This is very good news."

"I thought that you would enjoy it," his new spymaster said, chuckling along with his liege. "I assume that you will want me to put out the word to begin the search for her immediately?"

"Oh my, yes. We can't have the High Prince's lady love wandering around the Underground all by herself. She must be found and brought to Allanar." Diermuid lifted his wine glass in salute to Leofrick, who smiled. "... for her own protection," Diermuid added with a smirk.

Still smiling, Leofrick rose from his seat. "I will see to it, immediately, if you would excuse me, Your Majesty." Diermuid waved a hand and Leofrick bowed deeply before turning and striding out of the tent.

Diermuid placed his goblet back on the table and yelled for a refill. As a servant ran to fetch the wine jug, he all but rubbed his hands together with glee. This news made his earlier contemplations on breaking off the betrothal between Jareth and Belinda irrelevant. Let Shaylee and Gethin place Belinda on the throne. They might be able to control the next High Queen, but he would control something better... the heart of the King.

When the court finally arrived at the pavilion for lunch, they were surprised to find their king in a much more jovial frame of mind…

* * *

It was with a fair amount of trepidation that Katie and Chiara left the city of Allanar. As the mottled grey and green walls of the city receded into the distance behind them, they both expected that an outraged Mathyn would appear at any moment to take them to task for not having found Sarah yet. His continued and unexplained absence only increased the anxiety felt by the nyxie and the mortal woman.

They traveled east, swinging slightly north to avoid some of the more populated areas between the two capitals. Doing so meant that they traveled through a largely forested landscape, dotted here and there by homesteads and small settlements that barely earned the title of village.

To make matters worse, the weather turned when they were only two days out; the bone chilling north wind bringing cold rain and occasional ice and snow, depending on the elevation. Both Katie and Chiara suffered from the chill, the nyxie more than the human. Chaira spent a great deal of her time tucked into the pocket of Katie's jacket. Although they had taken great pains to procure garments that wouldn't make her stand out, Katie had refused to get rid of the coat, reasoning that she could still wear it when they were alone. Now that winter was upon them, Chiara was glad that she had given in on that point.

The sun was beginning to set, making the twilight beneath the leafless trees they traveled through somewhat eerie. For the last hour, they had seen storm clouds looming up behind them, so they were not surprised when they were overtaken by a snow squall. The stinging flakes, half snow, half ice, pelted down on them as the wind picked up. Katie bowed her head against the wind and hunched her shoulders as she looked around for any sign of shelter. A faint dirt track was the most promising thing she could see, so she began to follow it.

"Where do you think this leads?" she yelled over the whipping wind.

Chiara, huddled in her pocket, had to scream to be heard. "I have no idea! Be careful!"

Katie nodded wordlessly. After several minutes, lights appeared, flickering in the trees ahead of them. Katie stopped and prodded her pocket to get Chiara's attention. "It looks like a small settlement! Should we go around it or keep going?"

"Keep going!" Chiara yelled. "We need shelter. Maybe we can sneak into someone's shed and wait out the storm!"

Bowing her head against the weather, Katie continued to push forward, thankful that the ground was not yet covered by snow. As the lights from the small hamlet grew brighter, Katie began to move slower, scanning their surroundings for quick shelter as well as anyone who might see them. With regard to the possibility of someone seeing them, the storm was actually helpful. It seemed that all of the residents of this tiny village were snugly ensconced in front of their fires. Out in the cold, with the freezing ice stinging her exposed skin, Katie wished that she could be among them.

Skirting around the edges of the settlement, the companions came upon several sheds and barns, all of which were either occupied by livestock or stuffed full of wood, carefully chopped and stacked for the coming winter. Katie began to despair of ever finding a place to get out of the biting wind.

She and Chiara had made it all the way around to the east side of the village without finding a single place to shelter for the night when they began to hear shouting and screaming coming from behind them on the far side of the village. Confused, Katie stopped and turned around, peering back through the sleet, toward the center of the small settlement.

Large, hulking shapes were running between the houses, bashing in doors and dragging the occupants out into the storm. The screaming suddenly intensified, and a great gout of fire erupted from the roof of one of the buildings. In the harsh glow, the bulky shapes became somewhat clearer. Katie gasped, her breath billowing out in a visible cloud. The settlement looked like a scene from hell, despite the freezing wind and the snow that was now falling all around them.

Although this was the first time she had ever seen one, Katie had no trouble identifying the large creatures as orcs from the descriptions she had read. As she watched, one of them swiped a massive, clawed hand at the back of a fleeing woman. The force of the blow sent that woman hurtling through the air. She struck a tree and slid bonelessly to the ground at the base of the trunk. She did not move again.

"Go! Hide!" Chiara yelled, jolting Katie from her shocked contemplation of the horrors unfolding in the village.

Instinctively crouching low, Katie quickly moved out into the forest once again, her heart pounding. At every moment, she expected a large hand to descend on her, smashing her to the ground, but it never came. Only when the light of the fire started to turn hazy in the falling snow behind them did she stop to catch her breath. She looked around for a place to hide, thankful that they had kept to the outskirts of the hamlet while searching for shelter. Spotting a deadfall, she made her way over to it and crouched down behind it, trying her best to slow her pounding heart.

The falling snow was short lived. By the time Katie was able to gather the courage to peek, shivering, over the moss covered trunk of the fallen tree, the snow had turned to icy rain and the storm had died down. Chiara took advantage of the lowering winds to move from the pocket of the coat to the collar, squirming down between the fabric and Katie's neck instead. As they watched the fires burn in the village behind them, Chiara spoke softly into her ear.

"Orc raiding party. Good thing they didn't see us."

Katie nodded mechanically. She could just barely hear the occasional scream of a villager or deep shout of laughter from the orcs. "Why are they raiding?"

"There are many reasons," Chaira told her. "Most of them do it for the fun of it though. They have plenty of their own land and resources. They raid because they can, and because they want what others have."

The nyxie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "They are a vicious, cruel race. Those from the village that they don't kill outright, they will take as slaves. I've heard tales that say that some of those they kill will end up in their cooking pots tomorrow, but I don't know if that's true or not. I do know that they care little for any other creatures, even other orcs."

'Those poor people…" Katie murmured. Terrified as she was, she wished there was something they could do to stop the senseless violence that was happening just a short ways away.

"Yes, Chiara agreed. "There isn't anything we can do though. When the fires die down, we can get closer and see if there are any survivors, although I doubt that the orcs will leave anyone behind. Maybe we can still find shelter for the night."

Katie was too cold and worried to argue.

* * *

Several chilly and uncomfortable hours later, Chiara and Katie cautiously started back toward the village. It was fully dark now. Despite Katie's frequent stumbles as she navigated over the rough terrain of the forest floor, Chiara chose to remain in the pocket to conserve her body heat until they got closer to the still burning buildings. They were just within the circle of light cast by the dying fire when Chiara slipped out of the pocket and darted ahead to make sure the small settlement was clear of raiders. Hearing a low cry from Katie, Chiara paused. She turned to find her friend huddled on the ground next to the limp form of a little boy. The unnatural angle of his neck told Chiara that the boy was already dead. Despite his obvious injury, Katie was frantically checking for signs of life.

With a sigh, Chiara fluttered down next to Katie, shivering in the chill wind. "There's nothing you can do for him. He's gone. I told you the orcs wouldn't leave any survivors."

Katie looked up at her, her face streaked with tears in the dying firelight. "But he's just a little boy, barely more than a baby!"

Chiara shrugged. "Isn't he better off dead than a slave in an orc encampment somewhere?"

Katie gaped at her. "How can you say that!? Don't you care at all?"

"Haven't you learned anything since you came here?" Chiara retorted, her voice rising. "The world is a brutal, uncaring place, full of people who will hurt you just because they can. You are lucky to make it through each day alive and well."

When Katie made no reply, she gestured to the boy on the ground. "He's already dead. There is nothing I can do, and nothing I could have done to help him when he was alive. All I can do is be thankful; thankful that I didn't die with him and thankful that he won't suffer any longer. Learn to worry about yourself and leave everyone else to their own fate. You'll live longer."

Stiffly, the mortal woman rose from her crouch beside the small boy, tears still shining, unshed, in her eyes. Katie did not speak, but Chiara had not really expected her to. She knew Katie well enough by now to know that she was not likely to accept the truth of what she had said right away. The events that they had witnessed during the raid had been brutal. But, like everything that Katie had experienced since coming to the Underground, they were slowly changing her. In Chiara's opinion, the human was starting to toughen up and see the world for what it really was.

As they moved into the partially burnt village, they encountered more bodies. Katie, white faced, turned away and looked straight ahead grimly, refusing to meet her eyes. Chiara sighed to herself. She hadn't meant to make her friend unhappy, but Katie had to face the reality of the world she was living in. Fairytales didn't exist, and compassion could easily get her killed.

They eventually found a hut at the edge of the village that was not damaged by fire. It had probably housed animals, judging from the straw on the ground and the lingering smell, but they too had been either killed or taken by the orcs.

They briefly discussed whether or not they needed to keep watch. Chiara knew that the orcs wouldn't come back. There was no reason for them to do so, they were sure to have taken everything of value. In any case, Mathyn and his underlings kept them on a tight leash these days, never allowing them to deviate from the planned forays. Chiara couldn't tell Katie about the insider knowledge that she had, so she had to rely on general knowledge of the way orcs tended to behave. Eventually, Katie agreed that it was unlikely that the orcs would return. They settled down and were quickly asleep in the relative warmth of the shed.

No sooner had Chiara fallen asleep then she felt her master call for her. Grumbling and still in a half sleep, She left the hut and ventured out into the forest. In her sleep addled state, she didn't think about what would happen if she moved too far away from her friend.

The night was dark, but that was no problem for her silvery eyes. It was the cold that bothered her. Her kind were not made to endure wet, freezing weather. Nyxie's were creatures of the southern desert. Shivering with both cold and fear, she approached the clearing where she knew Mathyn was waiting.

He stood in the center of the open space, the wind whipping his cloak around him. As she emerged from the trees, he frowned and beckoned her closer.

"Hurry up," he barked. "It colder than the night hags tits out here."

Chiara approached, her eyes lowered as she had been taught, until she was within arms length of the Fae.

"Report."

She swallowed hard. "Word of Sarah has begun to reach the Underground at large. Allanar was full of rumors about the Champion of the Labyrinth and the reasoning of the Goblin King for keeping her triumph a secret."

He waved an irritated hand at her. "They can speculate all they want. I know his reasons. What have you learned of her whereabouts?"

Chiara shrank slightly further from him, closer to the ground, in the hopes of avoiding his wrath. "No one seems to know what has become of her. We tapped all of my contacts in Allanar and even managed to learn that the Wood Elven King's own intelligence service knows nothing of where she might be."

"So, you don't know where she is either?" he asked darkly.

Chiara whimpered and shook her head. She trembled as she watched him raise his hand and summon a sick looking sphere of magic into being.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Chiara."

It was the last thing the nyxie remembered for a long while.

When she finally began to regain consciousness, Chiara remained as still as possible. She had no idea whether her Master was still there or not, and she did not want to attract any attention to herself. She listened as hard as she could, trying to push the pain that wracked her entire body away from her conscious mind so she could concentrate on figuring out whether she was alone.

When she was finally satisfied that Mathyn had gone, the nyxie cautiously opened her eyes. Biting her lip against the agony that flared through her, she rolled over and looked up at the sky. The black of the night sky was just beginning to fade into deep blue, signaling the approaching dawn. She had been unconscious for hours.

As she slowly and painfully flew back to where she had left Katie, Chiara tried to formulate some sort of lie to explain her injuries, but her pounding head made it all but impossible to think of anything but making it back to the shed. Walking or flying, inch by inch away from the scene of her brutal torture, Chiara made her slow way back. The sun was just beginning to crest the horizon when the burned out village came into sight.

"Chiaaaaarrraaaaa! Chiaraaaaa!" Katie's screams cut through the stillness of the air. The nyxie suddenly realized what she had done. She should have woken Katie when she felt the summons and had her follow to avoid activating the spell that Mathyn had placed on her. She had not even thought of it. Chaira berated herself for her carelessness as she began to move faster, despite her injuries. She tried to shout a response to Katie, to assure her friend that she was coming and her pain would end soon, but she was unable to make any sound above a hoarse whisper. All she could do was fly on.

They both knew the minute that Chiara crossed that invisible boundary that marked the maximum distance they could put between them. Katie's screams stopped and she appeared not far away, staggering out of the small hut in the early dawn light.

The human woman quickly spotted the nyxie and Chiara dropped to the ground to rest while Katie approached her, fear and anger mixed in equal parts across the human's face. Whatever angry remark Katie had ready obviously died on her lips when she saw the shape Chiara was in.

"M'Sorry," Chiara mumbled. "... he called me, had t'go. Didn't think..."

Katie stooped stiffly and gingerly picked her up. Pain flared as the new pressure irritated the welts and bruises that were hidden by her dark skin.

"Oh Chiara," Katie breathed while carrying her gingerly back to the shed. Chaira could tell that Katie was trying to be gentle, but the jostling was too much and she blacked out again.

When she awoke once more, she was lying on a soft bed of fabric and many of her wounds were clean and bandaged. Her throat was still sore but she managed to croak, "Katie."

It was unclear whether Katie could hear hear or not. Nevertheless, Katie entered the hut shortly after Chaira spoke. She was carrying a cup. "Here, this should help with the pain." The human woman set the cup down next to her.

Chiara was confused.  _Why are we still here at the hut and not traveling through the forest, and why is she being so kind to me after last night?_  She couldn't wrap her mind around the concept. Her absence had caused this woman pain, and yet she still cared for her enough to tend to her injuries. Had their positions been reversed, Chiara was not sure she would have been charitable enough to do the same. She probably would have stuffed herself into a pocket and journeyed onward, not caring about the pain or the injuries of her companion, as long as they didn't slow her down.

Moving stiffly in the bandages, Chiara sniffed the contents of the cup and wrinkled her nose at the smell. "What is it?"

Katie wrinkled her brow and cicked her head to the side as she replied, "Aspirin."

"What's that?" Chiara peeked suspiciously over the rim of the cup at the rather bitter smelling liquid. She had never heard of such a thing. It must be some sort of human invention.

"Uhm… I guess you'd probably call it willow bark tea?"

Now that she had some idea of what it was, she began to recognize the smell. Another sniff confirmed it. Katie was correct, it was basically willow bark tea. Slowly, Chiara dipped her hand into the cup and lifted a handful to her lips. She drank quickly, hoping to avoid the bitter taste.

"It's snowing again,"Katie remarked as Chiara returned to the soft bed her companion had made for her. She sat silently, thinking about the extraordinary kindness that the human was displaying toward her, despite their somewhat rocky relationship.

"Why did you do this?" Chiara asked suddenly, ignoring her comment about the weather and gesturing to her bandaged wounds and comfortable surroundings.

"Do what?" Katie turned her attention from the weather outside to look at the small faerie.

"Why did you take the time to tend to me, even after I caused you pain? You saw what he did to me, yet you were willing to risk similar, if not worse, treatment to care for my injuries."

Katie looked at her blankly for a moment. Disbelief slowly suffused her face. "Because, it's the right thing to do. You're my… well, I guess I'd call you my friend; the only one I have in this place right now. I couldn't just leave you to suffer."

Chiara sat silently for several minutes, thinking Katie's response over. Years of thinking only about herself made such ideas foreign to her and she was having trouble adjusting her thinking. After a while she said, "We need to get moving. I think the willow bark has kicked in. If you carry me in your pocket, we can head toward Erisian. The next time the Master calls on us, we had better have something of value to report or what happened last night will seem merciful."

Katie nodded in agreement and readied them both to leave. As she traveled, safe and comfortable in the human woman's pocket, Chaira thought about the events of the day… and began to rethink her priorities.


	22. A Criminal Undertaking

**Disclaimer -** Santa didn't leave me the deed to the Labyrinth in my stocking like I asked... boo. :(

**A/N**  - Many thinks to my sister for serving as my beta on this chapter. Although it is largely edited by just me!

**Warning**  - OK, once again, a trigger warning for one teeny tiny scene of violence. Really just a bit of domestic violence, but still worthy of a warning. Nothing overly offensive depicted, maybe implied though!

* * *

Katie paced nervously in the alley, rubbing her hands and hunching her shoulders to keep warm. She sorely missed her warm jacket, now balled up and stuffed deep into her pack. Their arrival in the city had forced her to make do with the rather light cloak they had procured for her back in Allanar. It was a garment meant for cool fall weather, not the bitterly cold temperatures that were now the norm as winter began in earnest. Katie very much wished they could leave the city behind. They had been in Erisian for several days but had made no progress on finding Sarah, nor had they managed to purloin a warmer cloak. At this point, Katie was not very hopeful that anyone in the dark elven capital would have information on Sarah, and the weather only made her pessimism worse.

"Are you sure that this is the place?" Her brow furrowed and she shied away from the shadows, moving closer to the faint light that emanated from their lantern.

Chiara, sitting as close as she could get to the flame in their lantern without actually setting herself on fire, nodded. "Yes! I told you that the last time you asked."

Katie's mouth thinned and she glared around the trash strewn alley. "Well, they are late, whoever they are." She rubbed her hands together in hopes of bringing some feeling back into her fingers. "It's also freezing. I'm not so sure that this is a great idea. What if they just rob us and go?"

"Rob us of what?" Chiara retorted, waving her hand to indicate their impoverished state. Katie noted that she was careful not to move too much. The nyxies injuries were well on their way to healing, but she still winced if she moved wrong and Katie could tell that certain movements still pained her faerie friend.

She sighed. Chiara was right, they had precious little to steal at the moment. What little they did have was in her extremely worn pack along with her jacket, sitting unobtrusively in the shadows just a few feet away. By now, there was nothing of any real value in the pack, save Sarah's book, which Katie had carefully sewn into the lining at the bottom of the beat up bag. Katie had long since traded everything else for food, which they were also running low on again. So, even if someone took it in their head to rob them, they weren't likely to lose anything. There just wasn't anything to take.

Katie's thoughts were interrupted by the faint sound of stealthy footfalls approaching the flickering glow of their lantern. She looked around, trying to pinpoint the origin of the sound in the dark alley. She hoped it was the contact they were waiting for and not someone who would cause them trouble. Their contact, the nyxie had assured her, would be able to help them. He was a low level member of the Rabarianas, a wide reaching criminal syndicate in the Underground who were known for their ability to gather intelligence. Although Chiara meant this to be comforting, that fact that they were dealing with criminals still put Katie on edge. Nevertheless, after pausing to reflect on how she had seen some of the so called "upstanding citizens" of the Underground behaving, Katie reluctantly caved in to Chiara's insistence on contacting her hoodlum friend. They both knew that their lack of progress made taking more risks necessary, and Chiara had assured her that the Rabarianas were one of the best sources of information in the Underground.

The soft footsteps came closer and a shadow detached itself from the surrounding darkness. Katie caught her breath and stilled at the unexpected movement. "H-Hello?"

A hooded figure stepped into the weak light and Katie took an involuntary step backwards, stifling a yelp. The dim alley and the stealthy appearance of the stranger now standing silently only a few feet away caused her to break out in a cold sweat. The person did not move or speak. Katie swallowed hard, willing her pounding heart to slow as she stared at the stranger.

"Who are you?" Katie demanded, standing as straight as she could. She held her cloak tightly closed, hoping to shut out the cold and keep her uneasiness from showing. She waited, shivering, for the stranger to answer her.

The figure still did not speak. Instead, the concealing hood of the dark cloak was lowered by gloved hands, revealing a narrow but attractive face above a grey knit scarf. He, for Katie now had no doubt that the person in front of her was male, had dark hair that fell to his shoulders with a shorter fringe that looked as though it would constantly be falling over his face. His elegantly arched eyebrows were quirked over the lightest pair of brown eyes that Katie had ever seen. She expected the emotionless stare of a hardened criminal, but there was a glint of mischief and laughter in his eyes that belied his occupation.

Katie couldn't seem to formulate any words as she stared at the strange man with her mouth slightly open. It was just a few seconds, but it felt like hours were passing as her brain screamed at her to say something and stop standing there like an idiot, mooning over this unexpectedly attractive man. Her eyes took in the details of his appearance almost unconsciously while her brain seemed to have stalled. He had a thin, almost aristocratic nose and an equally angular face with slightly sunken cheeks. Although he looked almost completely human, the telltale rounded point to his ears and slightly refined facial features pointed toward a more mixed heritage. It did not detract from his good looks in the slightest. Rather, the more she looked at him the more handsome she thought he was. He definitely was nothing like she had expected.

The flutter of wings and Chiara's irritated voice as she launched herself into the air brought Katie back from her thoughts. There was a sort of mental shift in her head and time started up again. Heat suffused her cheeks and Katie quickly averted her eyes from his lean and obviously fit leather clad frame.

"What's going on?" Chiara asked as she landed lightly on the human woman's shoulder. Katie only shook her head, too embarrassed by her reaction to the stranger to reply.

"Stryan!" Chiara exclaimed in excitement, diving from her perch on Katie's shoulder and heading toward the half elven man. A welcoming grin spread over his face when his eyes lit on the nyxie. He held his gloved hand out and Chaira landed lightly on his upturned palm. "I am so glad to see you," The nyxie told him.

"It's been quite a while, hasn't it?" Katie couldn't help but notice that his voice was as pleasant as the rest of him. A rather deep tenor that carried easily through the cold alley. "Who's your companion?" he asked, turning his intense gaze on Katie once again.

"Oh! This is Katie Byrne. We're, uh… partners, at the moment." Chiara glanced at Katie as she took flight, heading back to the relative warmth of the lantern.

Stryan placed his now free hand on his chest and bowed, flourishing his free hand dramatically as he did so. "Miss Byrne, a true delight." Standing straight, he moved closer, grinning roguishly as he did so. The unexpected proximity of his masculine frame caused her to step back quickly, flustered by his display of charm and unsure how to handle it.

Katie muttered, "N-Nice to meet you…" Then her voice trailed off and she hunched her shoulders uncomfortably, not knowing exactly what else to say. Stryan chuckled and then turned his attention to Chiara. Thinking that he was laughing at her bumbling response, Katie glowered at him, but he wasn't paying attention any more. Instead he was chatting with Chiara.

"So, what have you been up to, Nyx? Same old nonsense? Got anyone into trouble lately?"

Chiara shot him an irritated glare. "Stop being cute. I've told you not to call me that. It's not like I'm the only nyxie in the world."

"But you're the only one in my world, sugar."

Chaira rolled her eyes and Stryan laughed at her obvious exasperation. "All right then, what can I do for you lovely ladies?" His glanced flickered back to Katie and she looked away, scowling.

"We are looking for information about the Champion of the Labyrinth, this Lady Sarah that everyone has been talking about lately. Do you know anything?" Chiara asked him.

"Hmmm. Seems like I may have heard a thing or two, but nothing major." He shrugged. "Then again, you know that information gathering isn't really my field."

"I bet." Katie muttered under her breath. She was shivering again, now that the momentary thrill of fear had passed. If Chiara and Stryan heard her comment, they gave no sign. Instead, they continued with their conversation.

""Do you know anyone who might have information on her, or where she is?"

Stryan thought for a moment. "It's entirely possible that the organization knows more about where the Champion can be found. I can ask around if you want."

""Well," Chiara hedged, "We are kind of pressed for time on this Stryan."

His eyebrows shot up. "Really... Alright, well then why don't you both come with me. We can go and talk to Vinn and see if he might have more information than I do."

Without waiting to consult Katie, Chiara agreed, fluttering up to curl up in the folds of his scarf. Stryan picked up the lantern and turned to Katie with a small smile that melted away when he laid eyes on her.

At first Katie thought that his change of expression was the result of the scowl on her face at the sudden change of plans. She tried to meet his eyes, but found herself unaccountably flustered by him. She had just a fleeting glimpse of his eyebrows drawing together over his amazing eyes before she found herself looking down at the ground, still shivering in her thin cloak.

"You must be freezing," He stated quietly. She heard him set the lantern back on the overturned bucket it had been sitting on. A moment later Katie felt warm leather sliding across her shoulders and she looked up in surprise. Stryan had removed his long outer coat and wrapped it around her before turning to pick up the lantern again.

Katie's face flamed. Her first instinct was to refuse the coat, but the warmth was such a relief that she couldn't bring herself to do it. Hesitantly, she asked, "Won't you be cold?"

"Nah, not really." A sudden gust of wind blew down the alley, causing him to shiver a bit himself and he chuckled ruefully. "Not as cold as you were anyway. Don't you have any proper clothing?" Without waiting for an answer Stryan beckoned her to follow him and started to walk away.

Katie snatched up her pack and hurried to catch up. When she reached his side she asked, "Where are we going?"

"My group is meeting in a local tavern tonight, it's not very far."

"Great, another tavern," Katie muttered under her breath. This time he heard her and laughed lightly.

"Been in a few too many taverns lately?"

"We were staying at Robbie's place in Allanar," Chiara piped up from her place on Stryan's shoulder. "Robbie was a bit too interested in Katie..." She trailed off and let their new companion form his own conclusions. Katie was somewhat surprised. She hadn't thought that Chiara noticed.

"Heh." Stryan stopped walking and turned to Katie. He lifted the lantern slightly so that both of their faces were illuminated in its pale glow. She looked up at his serious face. "As long as you stick with me, you'll be fine in the Red Blade. No one will bother you, alright?"

Katie nodded slightly. She had barely started moving her head when Stryan whirled and started walking again so quickly that it took several steps for her to catch up with him again. They walked in silence, passing several people, all of whom ignored them entirely. It was far too cold to bother with anyone elses reasons for being out at this late hour.

As she trailed Stryan down the street, Katie surreptitiously buried her nose in the ratty fur collar of his coat. It smelled very masculine, yet not unpleasant. She caught the whiff of smoke, a hint of incense, a bit of sweat, and the personal scent of Stryan himself. She had never smelled anything like it before. It brought to mind wild places, lit with starlight and a crackling campfire. Her mind swam with images of lovers by the fire, gentle breezes blowing the treetops and the sounds of the night filling the air. She was so caught up in the image that she almost walked right into Stryan's back when he stopped in front of a brightly lit, and very crowded, establishment.

"This is it," he said gruffly. "Remember to stick close to me." He removed his gloves, stuffing them into an inner pocket in the short vest he was wearing and held out his hand to her. For a moment, Katie simply stared at it, not really knowing what he wanted. When it dawned on her that he wanted her to take his hand, she shrank back.

"Is that really necessary?" she asked. The question came out more tartly than she had intended it to and she blushed furiously again.

He drew his hand back slightly, looking concerned and confused. "No, but it's quite crowded tonight and I get the feeling that you wouldn't want to be mistaken for a working girl. Am I right?"

Blushing even more Katie shook her head.

"Well then, take my hand and stay close." Stryan extended his hand once again and this time, Katie placed her own hand into his slightly larger one. The warmth of his hand was startling on her very cold fingers but also comforting. She was still blushing furiously as he turned and led her into the Red Blade Tavern.

As Stryan had said, the interior of the tavern was quite crowded. The air was smokey and the atmosphere was rowdy. In the corner next to the door, a group of players plied their trade, strumming and tootling tunes that went largely unheard in the raucous chaos of the taproom. As Stryan pulled her further into the room, Katie was jostled in several directions by various bar patrons, all of whom were rather drunk.

On large man leered and pawed at her drunkenly. "C'mere pretty and give us a kiss!" His breath was foul, and Katie quickly tried to pull away, only to have him drunkenly follow. She used her free hand to try and push him back, her other hand still held fast in Stryan's grip. For a moment, Katie was pulled between the two men as she tried to fend off the large drunk.

The next thing Katie knew she found herself clutched tightly to Stryan's side, his arm around her waist. In his other hand, a knife flashed red and the drunk stumbled backwards with blood running down his arm and chest. Katie gaped in astonishment at Stryan.

"Hands off, Allyn." Stryan snarled. "She didn't want your attention." He stood calmly, despite his tone, not taking his eyes off the now bleeding drunkard who had half collapsed into sitting position on the floor next to a nearby table.

Silence spread throughout the room and Katie held her breath, expecting a fight to break out. Blearily, the drunk looked up, his eyes widening in recognition when they focused on Stryan.

"'Ey, I didn't mean nothin' by it Stryan," He slurred. "How's I ta know she's with you?" At that, the entire room burst into laughter and the incident seemed to be forgotten. Everyone else went back to their drinking and gaming, except for a few men who were still laughing uproariously at the unfortunate Allyn.

Stryan turned away and released Katie to clean his blade. "Are you alright?" He asked her, returning the small knife to the sheath strapped under the leather bracer on his forearm.

"I'm fine," Katie said shortly. "Is he ok?" Katie peered around Stryan to see that the drunk, Allyn, was being hauled up to his feet by several other men. Someone handed him a mug of ale and he sat at the table and took a long swig, spilling some down his ragged beard as he did so. Katie shook her head in distaste and turned her attention back to her companions. She could just barely see Chiara's eyes peering out at her from the folds of the scarf that Stryan had flung over his shoulder.

Stryan didn't even bother to look. "He's fine. I only scratched him." Katie looked dubiously over her shoulder at the drunken man as Stryan grabbed her hand and once more pulled her deeper into the tavern.

Closer to the back of the tavern, things were quieter and far less rowdy. Most of the people sitting at these tables seemed to be involved in serious discussions, or serious games of chance. Katie noted several card and dice games where the participants looked mostly sober and very intent on their game. Stryan walked past even these tables and confidently strode up to a door that was guarded by a heavily muscled bouncer.

_How cliché_ _,_  Katie thought with a mental giggle. Stryan nodded curtly to the bouncer and prepared to go through the door he guarded but the man stepped into his way.

"No girls tonight, Stryan. The boss ain't happy. Carlo and Lyle got pinched this afternoon and we're short handed for tonight's work."

Stryan sighed and shook his head. "I told those two that the jeweler was onto them." The bouncer nodded in agreement but said nothing else. Stryan beckoned him closer and continued. "Look, Pete, she isn't a working girl. She's looking for some information that Vinn might have. Maybe you just nip back and tell him I've got some new business for him. We'll stay right here, promise."

Pete seemed to think it over for a few moments. "He's not gonna be too keen, Stry. You know he had his heart set on tonight."

Her half elven companion made a placating gesture with his hands. "I know, I know, but ask him anyway. Maybe… maybe something will work out."

Pete's eyes lit up. "So you'll do it?"

Stryan sighed and Katie wondered what was up that he didn't want to do. "Maybe we can work something out," he repeated. "Will you go and tell him?"

"Sure, man." Pete shrugged, then disappeared through the door that he had been guarding.

After Pete disappeared, Stryan unexpectedly grabbed ahold of Katie's hand again and pulled her away from the door and into a hallway not far away.

"Will you stop that?" Katie snapped. "I'm not a rag doll."

"Sorry," Stryan muttered. "I just wanted to get out of sight for a bit, in case Vinn decides to come out looking for me himself."

"Are you in trouble?" Katie asked, concerned despite her irritation. As soon as she said it, she wondered why she had. It wasn't any of her business, and she couldn't afford to get mixed up with anything else in the Underground right now. She had enough problems.

Stryan shook his head. "Nah, I just hadn't wanted to participate in tonight's outing." He looked closely at her. "It's still chilly, but you look warmer, do you want to hold onto my coat for a while longer?"

Katie blushed again, remembering the thoughts that the scent of the coat had put into her head. "N-No, it's ok. You can have it." She quickly slid her arms out of the sleeves and handed it over. She would have liked to have kept it, just for a little while more, but it really wasn't a good idea. "T-Thanks."

"No problem." Stryan smiled at her and Katie suddenly felt like the room was very hot. She turned away and looked at her surroundings while Stryan put his coat back on. Chiara took the opportunity to slip out of the folds of his scarf and dart over to Katie's shoulder.

"Look!" Chiara spoke quietly in her ear. She indicated a group of people that were approaching from the more rowdy part of the tavern. "They look just like that group we trailed in Allanar, the ones with the armbands, remember?"

Katie looked toward the group and noted that Chiara was correct. They all wore the same armbands: an eye embedded in a green gem, set in a fiery circle on a field of black. They were all heavily hooded and kept their faces down, obviously not wanting to be recognized. They passed the hallway where Stryan and Katie were standing and headed to a semi private table in an alcove down the hallway.

"I'm going to check it out," Chiara whispered in her ear.

"But Rob said…"

Chiara was gone, having slipped into the shadows above the table just as the last person took their seat and half closed the curtains. Turning back to Stryan, Katie asked "Do you know anything about those people at that table over there?"

"Nope. Who are they?"

"I don't know, they wear these armbands and act really secretive."

At this information Stryan's face grew serious. "You don't want to mess with them. They are really strange people. I've heard some odd rumors about them. They are end of the world types, trying to fulfill some prophecies or something. Seems kind of nuts, but I've heard they do some awful things to people who get in their way."

"Well, Chiara just went to see what they are doing. We saw a similar group in Allanar." Concerned, Katie peered down the hall, trying to get a look at the strange group and hoping to see the nyxie while she did so.

"She'll be fine," Stryan assured her.

Katie sighed and shook her head, trying to settle down. She spent a minute or two fidgeting and constantly checking the hallway. She was worried that Chiara would be seen, or that she would get too far away again. The last thing that Katie needed was to cause a scene by triggering the magic the Goblin King had bound her with.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. "I'm going to try and get closer." Katie told Stryan.

"Wait…" he hissed, but it was too late. Katie was already out and across the hallway. She hugged the far wall as she slowly approached the curtained alcove that the group was sitting in. She got within a few feet of the opening before she could make out what was being said at the table behind the dingy brown curtains. Chiara was nowhere in sight, but that didn't really surprise Katie. She knew how good the nyxie was at making herself nearly invisible in the shadows. Deciding that this was as close as she wanted to get, Katie paused to listen to the hushed conversation going on a few feet away.

"... I've heard tales that there is another calling himself the Empty One in the north."

"What does HE say about it?"

"No word on that yet, I'd be surprised if he didn't know, considering where he is."

"Should we do something about it?"

"What are we meant to do? There aren't all that many of us yet."

"More join every day! Soon there will be enough of us to-"

"Enough! We are here to contact the Master..."

Katie jumped but managed to bite back a scream when a hand landed on her shoulder. She spun around quickly to see Stryan, with his finger to his lips, beckoning her to follow him. A moment later, Chaira landed on her other shoulder. Relieved, Katie followed the young thief back up the hallway and through the door that Pete was now holding open for them.

The small group entered another room full of people. Unlike the main tavern, this room was calm and quiet. Those who were drinking were doing so in moderation and conversations were hushed. As they entered, several people called out friendly greetings to Stryan, which he returned good naturedly. They threaded their way through the room and approached another door on the far wall. Katie vaguely wondered exactly how big this building was. It seemed far larger than it had on the outside.

They entered yet another room. This one was set up as an office and contained only one person. He was a thin, wiry man with a hook like nose and very crooked teeth. He was completely bald, but Katie could see the stubble beginning to grow back over his head, indicating that it was a fashion choice, not a result of hair loss. The man's dead grey eyes lit up when Stryan entered the room.

"So, boy… I heard you might be persuaded to join the expedition tonight."

"I never promised anything Vinn." Stryan's voice was hard and he stood tensely, balanced on the balls of his feet as though he was expecting a fight. It made Katie nervous.

"We'll see," Vinn said. Then he turned to Katie with a predatory smile. "So, you are looking for some information. What might you be needing to know?" His eyes flickered to where Chiara sat silently on her shoulder and then back to her face. Katie felt a bit like a bug pinned as a specimen under his gaze. She shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, Chiara's warnings about the treatment of humans, especially mortals, echoing in her mind as she prepared to answer.

"We're looking for information about the Champion of the Labyrinth."

Vinn's eyebrows shot up. "Indeed?"

Katie waited for him to say more, but he remained silent. Her feeling of discomfort grew. "Do you have the information I'm looking for?"

"Perhaps. However, that information is highly sought after at the moment. There are kings asking the same questions, mortal girl, and the price for the answer will be high."

Katie's mouth dropped open and she felt the blood drain from her face. Next to her, Stryan turned and looked at her in surprise. She swayed slightly where she stood but managed to remain standing. "H-how…"

"Oh come, you didn't think that you would be able to hide the information from the Master of Shadows, did you? Didn't my young friend there tell you anything about me?"

Katie mutely shook her head. On her shoulder, Chiara stood. Fluttering into the air between Katie and Vinn she asked, "What will the price be?"

"Ah, the nyxie speaks." Vinn said. "Most interesting pairing, a mortal girl and a nyxie. Even more interesting is the magic I can sense between you." His eyes flickered between Chiara and Katie for a few moments. Katie held her breath and kept quiet, hoping that he would not probe any further.

When neither the nyxie or the human woman answered, Vinn sighed and turned his attention back to Chiara. "Tonight, we have a robbery planned. We are short several people due to an unfortunate incident this afternoon. Because I find you both so fascinating, I might be willing to divulge the probable location of the Champion in return for your participation." Vinn shot a glance at Stryan. "All three of you."

Stryan snorted. "Of course. Anything to get me to participate, huh old man?"

Vinn grinned humorlessly. "But of course. You must practice your skills if you don't want to lose them." She returned his gaze to Chiara and Katie. "You my little night faerie, will make an excellent lookout. As for your mortal companion… well, an extra pair of hands, even unskilled ones, will be worth the risk if it means that young Stryan will be joining the group."

"She won't like the idea of bringing in amateurs, Vinn." Stryan said. "How about Chiara and I join and leave Miss Byrne out of it."

"She'll like it even less if we don't procure the items she has demanded." Vinn snapped. "The Duchess has already given us an extension, remember? However, Miss Byrne may remain behind with me… if she cares to."

Katie shuddered at the thought. At least she wouldn't have to worry about that. Either she and Chiara both participated, or neither one did. The mere thought of being separated from Chiara made her arm tingle and burn. Unconsciously she rubbed it with her other hand. Vinn's eyes watched her every move with interest, so she quickly stopped. Her head was whirling. There was so much going on that she didn't understand and it scared her more than a little. She tamped down on her fears and took a deep breath. Vinn scared her too, but if he really knew were Sarah was, maybe dealing with him was worth it.

"How do we know that you have the information we're looking for?" Chiara asked suddenly, still hovering in midair in front of Katie.

Katie was taken aback. She hadn't even considered that. She gathered her courage and stepped forward, allowing Chiara to come to rest on her shoulder once again. "I agree with her. If we do as you ask, what's to stop you from giving us bad intel once we're finished?"

Vinn blinked several times and then smiled again, nodding his head. "Very good, very good ladies. I see that you actually know how to use your brains." The smile dropped from his face as he continued to speak. "Perhaps, since you are so intelligent, you might tell me how I am to provide proof that the intel I can procure is accurate without actually divulging said information?"

"Ummm." Katie twisted her hands together. She did not have an answer. Chiara sighed quietly next to her ear and Katie could tell that her small companion did not have a good answer either.

When he was certain that no answer was forthcoming, Vinn sat back in his chair and crossed his thin arms over his chest. The trailing sleeves of his black robe gave the impression of dark wings. "I suppose you will just have to take my offer or leave it. You don't have much of an alternative at this point." He fell silent and simply looked at them, waiting for an answer. The clock on the wall struck eleven at that moment, breaking the tension in the room. He waved a hand to dismiss them. "You have three hours to decide. Either way, you must remain with us, as our guests, for the remainder of the night."

Katie opened her mouth to ask why, only to close it again quickly when his chilling eyes fell on her.

"We can't have you running off to the Guard about our activities, now can we?" He pointed toward the door. "You may all go, but remember, I require an answer soon."

As soon as they left the room, Stryan turned to Katie and Chiara. "I'm sorry. I didn't expect him to demand something like that. If I'd known, I would've told you to wait until tomorrow before I brought you." He indicated an empty table and Katie all but collapsed into her seat. Now that they were out of the room with that unsettling man, she began to seriously reconsider the wisdom in coming here.

"How did he know so much about me?" She asked Stryan, trying to hide the reactionary bought of fear she was fighting.

"He has some unusual skills." Stryan said. "He puts them to good use, working for the Duchess." His voice was flat and emotionless and Katie looked at him in surprise. There was clearly a lot more about Stryan than she could see. He shrugged out of his coat again and unwound the scarf from around his neck. As he did so, Katie noticed a flash of color on his neck, right above his jugular vein. It was a tattoo. It looked like a small black spider sitting on a green web. The spider's feet were tipped in red and it had a brown diamond on its back.

She was going to ask for a closer look when Stryan suddenly stood up. "How about I get us some drinks?" He smiled at Katie and she nodded without expression.

After he left the table, Chiara hopped down from her shoulder and stood on the table in front of her. "We are going to have to do this, you know."

Katie sighed. "I suppose. I don't trust that man though."

Chiara looked confused, "Who? Stryan?"

Katie shook her head. "Him too. But I was talking about the other one, Vinn… he knew too much. How did he know I was mortal?"

"Well he is clearly a magic user. I told you that it would be obvious to people with the ability to tell, didn't I?"

"You did," Katie agreed glumly. "I suppose that you are right, we don't have much of a choice. Although I still say that we should just cut our losses and go."

"Really?" Chiara placed her hands on her hips. "Just how well do you think that will go over with the master? Hmmm? We are going to have to come up with something soon. You know that."

Katie squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. "Yeah, but… robbery?"

Chiara shrugged. "Whatever gets us the information we need."

Katie struggled with the idea of committing another crime. No matter what Chiara said, it just wasn't right. She heard the outer door open again, and she looked up as Stryan came through it, holding a tray of food and drink. Despite her hunger, she wasn't particularly glad to see the handsome half elf. "He got us into an awful mess, you know."

Chiara looked over at Stryan who was weaving his way through the maze of chairs and tables to get to them, laughing and bantering with those he passed. "It's not his fault." She tapped Katie's hand, pulling her attention down to the table again. "You can trust him."

"Maybe."

"Here we go!" Stryan set the tray down on the table. "You two looked like you might be hungry." He resumed his seat and started passing food to Katie. She took the food without speaking, unwilling to drop her guard.

As they started to eat, he suddenly grew very serious. "Listen, I'm really sorry I got you into this mess and that Vinn is being such an asshole. If you want, I will sneak you out of the city as soon as we finish eating."

Surprised, Katie looked up from the stew she had been stirring thoughtfully. "Why would you do that?"

"So you don't have to stay here until tomorrow. If I sneak you out now, you might be able to find someone else with the information you need and be out of Erisian before Vinn can find you." He kept his voice low and leaned closer to Katie as he spoke. Katie was once again struck by the charm and good looks of the man. She didn't know how to respond to the offer, but she certainly wished he wouldn't get so close.

"No thanks, Stryan." Chiara said, popping a bite of bread into her mouth. "We're gonna be joining you later. I've wanted to see you in action for a while now."

* * *

After the moon sank below the horizon, Katie, Chiara, Stryan and several other members of the gang headed out of the Red Blade. They slipped quietly through the streets, making their way stealthily toward the more opulent section of town. As they left the slums, the streets grew increasingly deserted. Chiara alternated between riding curled in Stryan's scarf and flying above the heads of the group to keep an eye out for the City Guard. In either position, she also kept an eye on Katie, knowing that she was not only an amatuer when it came to illegal activity, but also uncomfortable with with the entire idea. There was one worry that Chiara was glad to see taken care of though - The mortal woman was no longer freezing in the cold night air. Stryan had been kind enough to find her some clothing that was better suited for both the weather and the work they would be doing that night. She was now dressed much like him, in dark breeches, soft boots, and a dark tunic and vest. He had also found her a much heavier cloak and a coat.

Chaira shook her head. Her friend had been very unwilling to take the offered clothing from Stryan. She didn't know what Katie's problem was but she seemed to be very short and snippy with the young man. She could only hope that Katie wouldn't be so distracted by whatever her deal was with Stryan that she got herself into trouble tonight.

By the time they reached the imposing house that was their target, they no longer saw anyone out on the streets but guardsmen on their rounds. The group gathered out of sight in the alley behind the house.

The man in charge spoke in quiet tones. "When we get in there, the first group will head for the library to retrieve the items we want from there. The second group will come with me to find the strongbox." Everyone around the group nodded in understanding, except Katie.

"What about me?" She whispered anxiously.

"You stick with me." Stryan told her.

Katie looked unhappy but nodded anyway. The man in charge looked up at Chaira. "You sound the alarm if you see anything, got it?"

"Sure."

Chiara fluttered higher into the air and began to scan the surroundings while one of the thieves tossed a grappling hook over the railing of the third floor balcony that overlooked the side street. The hook rattled on the stones before catching on the wooden railing and everyone froze for a minute to make sure that the sound had gone unheard.

When they were sure that their activities had not raised any alarms, the small gang of thieves began to climb the rope, hand over hand. Chaira watched, wondering if Katie would be able to do the same.

Shivering a bit, the nyxie used her small store of magic to create a temporary bubble of warmth around herself and floated lower, just in time to hear Stryan reassure Katie. "It'll be ok if you do it like I said. Don't worry, I'll be right behind you. I won't let you fall."

Chiara could tell that Katie struggled with the climb, but she eventually made it safe onto the balcony. Stryan pulled himself up a moment later and then pulled the rope up behind him to keep it out of sight.

Satisfied that Katie was doing fine, Chiara once again turned her attention to watching out for trouble. Behind her, there was muffled cursing and shuffling as someone worked on picking the lock that secured the balcony door. A few moments later, Chiara's keen hearing picked up the sound of the tumblers in the lock falling into place. They eased the door open, taking care not to elicit a shriek from the hinges, and the group slipped inside.

Left alone outside, Chiara sent up a short prayer to the Fates that everything would go well. Again, the nyxie briefly activated her magic to keep herself from freezing and continued to keep watch, breathing deeply to try and calm her nerves.

All was silent for a while and Chiara started to grow tired and cold. Then, without warning, an unholy racket started up behind her. Chiara whirled around with her heart racing in her throat. She couldn't see anything but the darkened house and garden and it took her a moment to realize that the sound as coming from inside the house itself. The shrieking and clanging sound was obviously magical in origin, indicating that the group had set off some sort of alarm, and it was getting louder. With a sinking feeling, Chiara turned her attention back to the surrounding streets and nearly groaned out loud. Every guard for blocks had been alerted to the disturbance and was closing in on the house.

Before Chaira could give any warning, the Rabarianas appeared at street level, bursting out of the back door of the house and pounding down the darkened streets. Chiara hesitated for only a moment before following them, despite the fact that there was almost no chance she herself would be caught. She had to keep up with Katie if the mortal woman stood a chance at making it safely back with the group!

Chiara cut across the rooftops, staying as close as she could to the gang weaving their way through the streets below. They were headed back toward the safety of the slums. To avoid drawing any further unwanted attention, they had stopped running as soon as they were clear of the immediate area around the target house. They now drifted like ghosts from shadow to shadow, staying as hidden as possible. The nyxie checked on the group frequently, trying to locate Katie, but all she could see were hooded figures slipping through the quiet streets, avoiding street lamps and lighted storefronts. They were nearly back to the agreed on rendezvous location when she caught sight of Stryan, swathed in shadows of his own making. Chiara let out a sigh of relief. If Stryan made it out alright, then so did Katie, he would have made sure of it.

Her mind at ease, Chiara paused and once again warmed herself, using the last of her magic to do so, before following tiredly in the wake of the group. As she slipped into the crumbling building the Rabarianas used as a safe house, she was already planning on how soon she and Katie would be able to gather their information and leave.

The inside of the house appeared to be deserted and there was no sign of the gang. Somewhat confused, Chiara listened carefully and finally heard the sound of voices floating up the stairs that led to the basement. She joined the group in the basement, too exhausted at first to notice that they were tense and an argument was brewing.

"... don't know why she didn't keep up-"

"We never should have…"

"Well we can't go back."

Chaira's heart sank. She looked around for Katie, hoping to see her on the outskirts or sitting in the shadows that surrounded them. Her attention was drawn back to the group by the sound of Stryan's voice rising above the others as he berated the man who had been calling the shots.

"You shouldn't have separated us! We have to do something…"

Chiara caught her breath and sank to the floor as the realization of what had happened washed over her. Stryan was gesturing angrily back the way they came and arguing vehemently with the other members of the group… but Katie was not among them.

* * *

Sarah smiled grimly as her arrow slammed into the center ring of the target once more. The watching centaurs cheered and stamped their hooves. Her grouping was exceptional. She lowered the beautiful bow that Samoth had given her and waited until the others were finished shooting before going to retrieve her arrows for another flight. She had come a long way since the night she had first attempted to draw this bow.

The past month had been difficult. Between traveling and training, Sarah had thrown herself completely into her daily activities, trying to wear herself out to the point where she no longer dreamed at night. She found that dreaming led her to places and topics that she would rather avoid, so she tried to ensure that she wouldn't dream at all by working herself to exhaustion. She started riding in Samoth's wagon less and less, despite the lightheadedness that frequently overtook her when she walked or ran for long periods. As a result, her stamina greatly improved over the course of their journey south.

Unfortunately, Sarah quickly found out that this was a double edged sword. As her physical condition improved, she had to work harder and harder to exhaust herself. Some nights, Sarah was not tired enough to keep the dreams at bay and every one she had about the Goblin King was both a guilty pleasure and a stark reminder of what she had turned down. Still, very few of them approached the feeling of reality that had so marked some of those she experienced in the past. In fact, her dreams were ordinary much of the time, if full of impossible hopes for the future. Visions of things that could never be and flashes of the past haunted her sleep in equal measure. Regardless, each and every dream of Jareth was like a knife twisting in the wound she suffered after that odd dream with the vines and ropes. Sarah sometimes felt as though her soul was a raw and it took a great deal of her concentration to push the pain aside and pretend like nothing was wrong.

After those first few painful days of adjustment and depression following that dream, Sarah decided that she needed to stay as busy as possible if she hoped to move on with her life. With every bout of soul wrenching pain, she reminded herself that she had turned Jareth down, and that was that. There was no way in hell that he would want anything to do with her now. Still, whenever she allowed it to do so, her traitorous mind insisted on replaying certain looks and phrases that had passed between them. Sarah staunchly resisted as her mind sought to twist those interactions and provide her with hope. So she chanted her personal mantra over and over -  _Be strong and live in the moment_  - using it as a shield to keep both the regret and the hope at bay.

Despite her physical exhaustion and her wounded soul, Sarah was growing increasingly skilled in both fighting and statecraft. By day, Sarah drilled with Adelina and the other young centaurs and at night she honed her mind with the help of the Elder. Samoth instructed Sarah in the geography, customs, and governments in the Underground. Under his tutelage, she also learned the finer points of diplomacy and leadership. Her knowledge and skill increased daily as she helped the Chief Shaman settle disputes between clans and individuals alike. Despite all this, Sarah still thought of herself as weak and damaged, incapable of any sort of authority position. Still, she threw herself into every activity... and the results were starting to show.

As Sarah stood at the front of a throng of centaurs, adding her voice to the din that surrounded her, she thought briefly about how odd it was for her to be so comfortable in such a huge crowd. When Samoth's clan arrived at the Henge, Sarah had been overwhelmed by the sheer number of centaurs that were already camped there. For the first few days, she was stared at wherever she went and whispers ran ahead of her like wildfire whenever she chose to leave her personal tent, making her thoroughly uncomfortable. When she asked Samoth for advice, he told her to be patient.

"I will introduce you once everyone has arrived," he told her.

Sarah had gaped at her elderly mentor. "You mean that this isn't all the clans?" In her mind, Sarah struggled to adjust her thinking about the sheer size of the grasslands that the centaurs called home. Given the number of centaurs who obviously lived there, and the fact that they didn't run into any other Clans until they were just a day or two from the Henge, she had been vastly underestimating the size the the centaurs territory.

"Not quite, there are a still a few stragglers." He laughed. "You look like a deer who is facing down a hunter. It will be fine, Sarah."

Although she had dreaded it, her formal introduction to the rest of the Clans had actually been quite painless. It seemed that the gossip she had been so uncomfortable with had actually worked in her favor. By the time Samoth led her into the center of the Henge and formally presented her to the clans as his adoptive granddaughter, an announcement which had shocked Sarah, every single centaur had heard at least one story about Sarah Williams, and seemed eager to learn more about her. Samoth's announcement was greeted with a roar of approval and she was quickly surrounded and welcomed by the rest of Samoth's family.

Sarah participated in several more flights before an errant arrow knocked her out of the competition. She stepped back amidst the groans and encouraging comments of her supporters to watch the remaining flights. Although it was disappointing to be eliminated, Sarah was by no means unhappy with her performance. She had come far further than she had thought she would. There were only four other archers left. To have placed fifth out of all the clans was no small feat for someone who had never picked up a weapon before this year, especially when you considered the fact that the other archers had been honing their craft since they were children.

When the tournament ended and the crowds began to drift away from the field, Sarah began to make her way back to her tent. As she did, she passed the staff fighting competition and smiled to think of the progress she had made in the other aspects of her physical training. In addition to her increasing skill with the bow, she had also made respectable progress with the staff. She now beat Adelina and the others as often as they beat her. Sarah found that she really enjoyed the extra reach that the bo staff gave her, especially when she was squaring off against the centaurs, who were all far taller, and stronger, than she was.

The one aspect of her physical training that Sarah was not pleased with was her knife fighting. Although Adelina told her that she was actually quite good and should consider someday getting some serious training in swordwork, Sarah always felt awkward with a knife in her hand. She was willing to admit that some of her discomfort may have had to do with the sheer physical size of all of her available opponents, but that wasn't the main problem. Deep down, Sarah didn't think that she could ever purposely harm anyone. The thought of actually plunging a knife into another living being made Sarah slightly queasy.

Sarah entered her tent and settled herself down on a pile of cushions to study some of the new books Samoth had procured for her. There was one, A History of the Formation of the Court, that Sarah was especially anxious to read.

Before she began, she closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath, fighting the urge to take a nap. While all of this hard work did help her keep her mind off of Jareth and the murky swirl of her feelings about him, it had other, less helpful, side effects. She was increasingly having periods of lightheadedness and extreme fatigue. Every now and then, Sarah's vision would fill with those strange sparkles and she would feel feverish, only to have both disappear as mysteriously and quickly as they came. Sarah brushed off these symptoms as a combination of working herself so hard without getting enough rest and her body's natural reaction to the power she had been given by the Unaligned. She wasn't worried, Diona had essentially told her that she would be fine. She didn't realize that other odd things were starting to happen around her, and the clan was beginning to take notice.

Forcing her eyes open, Sarah reached for the book and pulled it onto her lap as she sank further into the pile of cushions. She propped the book on her knees and was soon lost in the early days of the Court, when her ancestor William still walked the corridors of the Labyrinth.

* * *

A cold rain was falling from the iron grey sky as Sarah made her way through the encampment later that afternoon. Her breath puffed out in front of her and she wrapped her green cloak tightly around her body. Although the weather was not nearly as bad here as it had been while they traveled, it was still, undeniably, winter. Adelina had given her a fur scarf when the weather had turned bad. Sarah was not familiar with the animal that it had come from, but it was very warm. Surprisingly, Samoth had been able to provide her with a pair of comfortable boots that actually fit her. When she had asked him where he had gotten them, he said that they had been part of a trade that he had made with the few human merchants who routinely skirted the border of Avalon, hoping to trade with the centaurs.

A ruckus in between several tents stopped Sarah in her tracks. Several small male centaurs seemed to be teasing a little female, holding her doll up out of reach and tossing it back and forth. The girl was splattered with mud, crying and jumping about to try and retrieve her toy when Sarah approached the group, her anger rising as she did so.

"What's going on here?" she demanded.

All movement suddenly stopped, and the doll, which had been in midair when Sarah spoke, fell forgotten into a puddle.

"We were just playing," one of the males said sheepishly.

"Playing?" Sarah echoed angrily. Her blood pressure was rising and she was beginning to feel hot, despite the nasty weather. "This doesn't look like play, this looks downright mean." She angrily marched forward and put an arm around the little female, who was still sniveling. The rest of the group looked at the ground, ashamed at having been caught in their bullying.

Glaring around at the group she barked, "Get yourselves home. This is no weather to be out in, and I never, ever want to see this kind of behavior again." As the group dispersed Sarah turned to the little female still standing next to her. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

The girl nodded and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She was soaked and shivering so Sarah looked around for the doll. Seeing it partially trampled on the ground, Sarah bent over to retrieve it, her anger rising at the sight of the abused plaything. As she reached toward the doll her vision turned black and she almost fell into the mud puddle at her feet. As she struggled to remain upright, Sarah vaguely felt her hand close around the child's plaything. The moment she gripped it, she felt a hot jolt run down her arm and burst through the palm of her hand. Her lightheadedness increased dramatically.

The centaur girl gasped and Sarah shook her head, blinking rapidly to try and dispel the blackness and the sparkles that had suddenly appeared again as the blackness faded. When her vision cleared, she stood straight and handed the doll back to the girl.

"Run home and get warm and dry," Sarah advised the girl absently. In her daze, Sarah completely missed the fact that the doll was once again clean and dry, as was the young centaur. The girl, however, was very much aware that something unusual had just happened. She took her toy and ran, spooked by the encounter.

Not realizing that she scared the poor child, Sarah continued on her way, her anger slowly ebbing as she approached her "grandfather's" tent. When Sarah arrived, Samoth quickly ushered her in.

"Come in, come in. Get out of this nasty weather," he said, offering her a cloth to dry off with.

"Thank you."

He waved off her thanks and gestured toward the brazier that was burning in the tent. "Warm yourself up. Then you can tell me what you thought of the new reading material I had sent to your tent."

Obeying, Sarah smiled. "It was fascinating! I had no idea that the Underground had been so fractured before the appointment of the first High King."

"Indeed." Samoth settled himself on his customary pile of cushions. Sarah removed her wet cloak and muddy boots before she did the same. Once she had stilled, Samoth continued. "The appointment of a High King and the formation of the Court around that office was a controversial decision on the part of the ruling families of the day. Many opposed the idea, including your ancestor, William. Each race had always governed itself, and many saw no reason to change that. Once the majority accepted the idea, however, those who still disagreed were labeled Unaligned. There was a great deal of political and social upheaval at the time. Your family was… central... to the turmoil, I'm afraid."

Sarah shivered, despite the warmth radiating from the nearby brazier, and curled deeper into the pile of cushions that she was sitting on. "I read that WIlliam disagreed with the formation of the Court, but the book was silent about why he opposed the idea." Sarah said.

"Hmm. Whatever may have been written at the time about his reasons is long gone. Not much survived about why, exactly, he was against it. I would speculate that Williams' objections likely had to do with the fact that the capital was moved to Fialis, far away from the Labyrinth and the Croí Foinse, which had traditionally been at the center of the social structure in the Underground. It is likely that he saw this as the Realms abandoning their duty to guard and protect the Labyrinth and what lay beneath it. I suppose that we will never really know for sure," Samoth continued. "I did once come across a reference to a personal journal that William was supposed to have kept that might have shed more light on his reasoning, but it is likely long gone."

"Hmm." Sarah grabbed a blanket and dragged it over herself, trying to ward off the chill that she couldn't seem to shake. "So, once Joryth, the first High King, came to power, he moved to cement his position and William opposed him?"

"In a way," Samoth agreed, with an approving smile for her remembrance of the name. "William is said to have been very vocal in his dissent but not openly rebellious or hostile. He simply refused to swear fealty to the High King because he did not believe that Joryth's aims aligned with his own."

"What were Williams' aims?" Sarah asked.

"To guard and protect the Labyrinth and the Croí Foinse, of course."

"So, Joryth was afraid that a... rebellion... would coalesce around William?" Sarah guessed.

Samoth nodded. "Very good, Sarah. I imagine that was what prompted the High King to name someone more loyal to take over the guardianship of the Labyrinth and the lands around it, effectively banishing William and his family from their lands and home. That move marked the very beginnings of the Goblin Kingdom that we know today."

"How can that have marked the beginning? Didn't the beginnings already exist from the moment William became the Airíoch?"

"Not exactly. William didn't see himself as a king and had no desire to amass a kingdom around the Labyrinth. It is written that he rarely left the confines of the Maze itself. In fact, he and his family actually lived within the Labyrinth walls in a small manor house."

Sarah was surprised. She had never come across any reference to a manor house in the Labyrinth. She shivered again, and sniffled slightly. She hoped that she wasn't going to catch a cold. "Did the manor house become the Goblin City or the Castle?"

"No. When William left, the house couldn't be found. It's as if the Labyrinth swallowed it whole." Seeing that Sarah was still cold, Samoth offered her a glass of hot mulled wine from the table beside his cushions, which she accepted gratefully. Once she had taken a sip, Samoth continued, "He also didn't view the Labyrinth as something that could 'belong' to any one ruler or kingdom. Even then, the Croí Foinse had been under the protection of the Priestesses for longer than anyone could remember. In Williams view, the Labyrinth belonged to no one and everyone. He and the Priestesses were simply guardians and caretakers. Many of those who were Unaligned agreed with him on that point."

Sarah thought back to the pride in Naida's voice when she told Sarah that she was Unaligned. Now that she had more of idea what exactly that meant, Sarah was astounded that the movement had lasted this long.

"I can't believe that there are still people who are Unaligned! All of this happened so very long ago. Haven't they come to accept that this is the way it is now?"

"The Unaligned were outraged that Joryth took it upon himself to remove the Airíoch from his post after he and his family had been accepted by the Labyrinth itself. They felt that it symbolized the Court's lack of care and understanding about the Labyrinth and what it protected."

"The Croí Foinse." Sarah stated.

"Yes, the Croí Foinse. The waters of the spring can grant magical power, the gift of Sight, and even transform a mortal into a magical being, if the mortal is strong enough to survive. It is the most sacred thing in the Underground because, if the legends are true, the Old Ones released their life force into the water when they died, leaving their magical energy behind to strengthen the Underground."

So the Unaligned were concerned that the Court would not take the protection of the Labyrinth seriously? I thought that was the whole point of forming the Court and setting up the boundaries of the Realms."

"It was. In the end, it turned out that the formation of the Court did make the Labyrinth and the Croí Foinse more secure. The Labyrinth has never been breached, despite many attempts over the years by various factions who have all had their eye on the power to be had from the Croí Foinse. But…" he continued. "Because Joryth was too anxious to cement his position and too high handed in dealing with those he disagreed with, he created a lasting separatist movement, despite his best efforts to the contrary. I assume you have heard of the oath that the Unaligned took?"

Sarah nodded. "They vowed to remain separate from the court until the guardianship of the Labyrinth was returned to the Airíoch." She squirmed uncomfortably at the thought that they were all waiting for her to take up her "rightful" place. She had no intention of challenging Jareth for the Labyrinth. The entire idea was preposterous! Sarah glanced at Samoth and blushed under his knowing gaze. It sometimes seemed as though he could read her mind, and it was very disconcerting.

Samoth smiled gently at her. "What you need to understand though, Sarah, is that it wasn't originally just about the man. The Unaligned at the time saw the creation of the Court and the establishment of the capital as an abandonment of our duty to protect the spring and its magic. As I understand it, they feared that the High King would forget the importance of standing guard over the spring in the midst of caring for a wider Realm."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Sarah objected. "There has to be more to it!"

"Perhaps there was, but whatever the original reasons, the movement has evolved to become more about the man himself than what he stood for. William the Wise was a wonderful guardian, but he was wrong. His opposition to the formation of the Court stemmed more from a lack of forward thinking than anything else. Had he thought about it, and actually engaged more with his opposition, then he would have see how the Court could have been beneficial. He and his followers saw it only as a dereliction of duty, not as a measure to further the security of the Realms."

Sarah sat silently, sipping her wine and thinking about what Samoth said. After several moments, Samoth rose and made his way over to the side of the wagon that formed one wall of the tent he lived in. The wooden planks folded down, forming a high shelf that was currently serving as a sideboard for their evening meal. While the Elder busied himself with the food preparation, Sarah gave some serious thought to what she was going to do with herself and the information that she had been acquiring during her stay with the centaurs.

By now, she had essentially given up on the idea of returning Above. There was no point. Despite everything, Sarah felt that she belonged here in the Underground. However, she was adamant that she would not be challenging Jareth for the rule of the Labyrinth. She wanted nothing to do with the politics of the Underground. Perhaps she could just find a quiet cottage somewhere in the northern reaches of the grasslands and live there. Or maybe she would journey into Avalon and see what the mythical human kingdom was like. The only problem with any of those plans was the likelihood that she would still be sought out by every Unaligned resident of the Realms as they hoped to make her their ruler. It would be impossible to live a quiet life if she couldn't somehow settle this business with them and their expectations.

"Samoth?"

"Yes, Sarah?"

"Do you think it is possible for me to convince the Unaligned to accept Jareth as the rightful ruler of the Labyrinth?" Sarah sat up a little straighter and held her breath as she waited for his answer. She was not in the habit of bringing up the Goblin King in their discussions so she was not sure how he would take her sudden question.

The knife in Samoth's hand paused, hovering over the pile of vegetables he was chopping while he considered her question. After a moment, he continued chopping without turning around.

"When Jareth first bested the Labyrinth and became the Goblin King he attempted to make peace with the Unaligned." Samoth scooped up the chopped vegetables and dropped them into a waiting bowl. "He-"

"Jareth had to beat the Labyrinth to become the Goblin King?" Sarah asked.

"Of course. Every ruler of the Goblin Kingdom must be accepted by the Labyrinth itself or they cannot effectively rule the kingdom. That is why the throne of the Goblin King had been empty for so long when Jareth decided to challenge the Labyrinth. Although many had tried to solve the Labyrinth, all had failed for hundreds of years." Samoth picked up a bowl of vegetables and another of herbs and brought them to a pot sizzling over the fire.

As she watched him add the vegetables and herbs to the stew that was to be their evening meal, Sarah returned to her original question. "So do you think I could convince the Unaligned to accept Jareth in my place?"

Samoth stirred the pot thoughtfully for a minute while he considered the question. Eventually, he shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

Sarah must have looked rather crestfallen because Samoth smiled kindly. "You might be able to convince some of those who are already wavering, but you will never convince them all. When Jareth first became the Goblin King he tried to make peace with the Unaligned, as I said, and he did succeed... to a point. Most of the Unaligned agree that there is no doubt that the Labyrinth has accepted Jareth, but they don't consider him the Airíoch and they won't swear fealty to him as King."

"Because he is descended from Joryth?" Sarah guessed.

Samoth nodded and picked up drink. "However, despite their rejection, many of the Unaligned have a great respect for the Crown Prince."

Sarah thought of what Naida had told her about Jareth being the only one to even come close to earning her allegiance and nodded in understanding. "Yes, I've seen that. I don't really understand it though."

"In the early days, Jareth actually searched for the descendants of William the Wise, hoping that a solution could be found to bring the Unaligned back into the Court. Of course, he failed, but the attempt brought home to the Unaligned that he was not like his ancestors." Samoth paused to check the stew. Sarah fidgeting with impatience at the interruption. Her avoidance of talking about Jareth meant that all of this information was new to her and she was anxious to hear more. Samoth took a drink before continuing. "His refusal to take up his seat on the Council was another mark in his favor. Jareth spends his time worrying only about the Goblin Kingdom and his duties there. He leaves the running of the wider Realms to his father. In this, the Unaligned see him as much more like WIlliam than like Joryth.

"How did Jareth react when the Unaligned refused to swear fealty to him?" Sarah asked offhandedly, hiding her face behind her mug by taking a drink.

Her supposed lack of interest did not seem to fool the old centaur because he smiled knowingly at her while he answered. "He allows them to live freely in his kingdom without fear of punishment. Although they are subject to some prejudice from their fellow citizens, Jareth made it illegal to harass or treat them unfairly because of their views. Last I heard, he had not given up on healing the breach between the Court and the Unaligned and was still trying to find a viable solution."

After Samoth fell silent, Sarah stared into the fire thinking about what she had just learned about Jareth. There was obviously so much that she didn't know about him as a person. It was hard to reconcile the Goblin King she had met during her run through the Labyrinth with the man she was slowly learning about. The villain of her childhood was beginning to fade away, leaving her with a kind, compassionate king who cared about his subjects, and his kingdom. He tried so hard to overcome the wrongs of the past, even when it had been none of his doing!

Pain flared in her chest and Sarah winced, gritting her teeth against it. Everything she had just learned made every regret she had sharper, and those regrets dug into her heart like knives.

From across the fire, Samoth watched the play of emotions on Sarah's face. The wise old centaur had a gift for the sight, and he knew much of Sarah's destiny. He smiled knowingly and leaned forward to serve the evening meal. She was nearly ready.

* * *

Gethin left the great square in Fialis in a temper. This had been the second reading of the banns for the betrothal of his daughter to the Crown Prince and, once again, the Goblin King was not in attendance. Instead, that old crone who claimed to be the last Revered Priestess had attended as the representative of the Goblin King, full of excuses and apologies for Jareth's absence. It had been over two months, and so far, the only progress that had been made between Jareth and Gethin's lazy slattern of a daughter had been the exchange of a few insipid notes and letters, one single visit from Jareth for supper, and the ball that he had made Shaylee throw in honor of the betrothal! There was only a single reading of the banns left that was to take place the week before the actual marriage and Jareth had not attended any of them as tradition demanded. Gethin ground his teeth at the thought of the insult. Yes, it was carefully explained that Jareth was working overtime to repair the Labyrinth as quickly as possible and discover the identity of the saboteur that had caused the damage in the first place. Gethin smiled and nodded and made all of the right noises to let the others think that he was appeased by this explanation, but he was seething inside. Things were not going as quickly as he had hoped they would and his pose as an oily, self centered courtier was beginning to wear on him because of the delay. It was time to have another talk with his daughter. Perhaps he needed to send her to the Goblin Kingdom.

He strode toward the Arrival Hall, intent on getting back to Illetalos as quickly as possible. Belinda and Shaylee had gone ahead at least an hour ago. He had stayed behind, intent on picking up as much gossip as he could, especially any information connected to this mortal who was being hailed as the Champion of the Labyrinth. He had wanted to strangle Cieran for dismissing him from the Council Chamber the day that the betrothal was agreed upon. He was sure that there was more to it than a simple raid. Now that he was starting to hear rumors about this Sarah person, he would be willing to stake his reputation on the fact that the mortal had something to do with it.

Gethin moved through the portal and arrived in Illetalos, still in a foul humor. If one placed the rumors about Jareth and his lovesick behavior next to the newly emerging rumors about Sarah and her triumph over the Labyrinth, the picture that began to emerge was not to his liking. He would have to force his daughter to move even more quickly than he had thought. She was sure to resist, but he knew just the right buttons to push to ensure her cooperation. No matter how distasteful she might find her instructions, she would follow them to the letter, or face the consequences.

Forcing his face into a genial expression, he stopped the first servant he saw and inquired as to where the Fairy Queen and her attendants had gone. The harried servant, who was hustling off on some errand for Queen Shaylee hardly spared him a glance as she waved her hand in the direction of the Queen's favorite sitting room before turning her back on him and hurrying off.

Gethin scowled darkly at the lack of respect implied in the servants hurried manner. One day, he promised himself.  _One day men will tremble at my approach and the women will fall at my feet, eager to serve._  The thought soothed, but could not banish the sting of the imagined slight against him. He turned and strode toward the sounds of female chatter coming from the room at the end of the corridor.

He entered the room without knocking, pushing the door so hard that it slammed against the wall with a crash. Every woman in the room looked up, startled at his dramatic entrance. Shaylee was sitting in the center of the room, surrounded by what looked to be every lady in waiting that she had. Gethin noticed that Belinda had, as usual, taken a seat off to the side and was watching the group avidly. As he glanced her way, he saw her shift slightly in her seat, moving further away from her ever present personal guard. He glowered at her for a moment before announcing, "I will speak to the Queen and my daughter alone!"

There was a great rustling of fabric as the women of the Fairy Court rose to leave. There were several discontented looks as they passed him to exit the room. He chose to ignore them.

With a smile, Shaylee rose to greet him. "Hello Gethin. Belinda and I have just been talking about-"

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Belinda, go to your chambers, I will speak with you there." He barely spared his daughter a glance as she rose silently and left the room, trailed by her guard. He once more focused his attention on Shaylee.

"This is intolerable!"

Shaylee looked confused and stopped short in her approach. "What is?"

Gethin ground his teeth again. The muscles in his jaw were beginning to ache. "Jareth has not even bothered to show up to the reading of the banns, and the rumors continue to swirl about that little mortal girl who defeated the Labyrinth. They say the Jareth is in love with her!"

"Is that all!?" Shaylee laughed lightly and stepped in front of him, twining her hands around his neck. "Don't be ridiculous."

With an angry grunt, he removed her hands and pushed her back away from him. "Why is that girl even Underground? Why hasn't she been sent back Above where she belongs? Is Jareth hiding her away in his kingdom?"

Shaylee looked blankly at him, clearly confused as to why he was asking her these questions. He clenched his fists and took a step towards her. "I asked you to look into this before. Have you done so?"

"Well, no. I think you are being absurd." She turned her back on him and sauntered back across the room. With a smile that was meant to be seductive, she unlaced the simple stays on the front of her gown and dropped it to the floor before reclining on the divan she had occupied earlier. "Now come here," she demanded.

He ignored her obvious invitation. Instead he crossed the room and yanked her to her feet before striking her across the face. "You lazy bitch. Get your mind off your cunt once in a while and attend to the things I tell you are important."

Shaylee fell to the floor and then looked up at him, shocked. He glared at her, feeling both his anger and the dark power rising within him. Gethin struggled to tamp it back down. Shaylee had been useful, she had provided him with a path to power, but now she was growing more and more annoying with each passing day. He followed her to the floor, gripping her by the throat and pushing her back. His eyes burned as he knelt over her. "You will do as you're told..."


	23. Cold

**Disclaimer -** We all know how this works by now. Don't own, don't profit from it, blah blah blah...

A/N - My thanks to my beta, ladyofshallot19 for her input on the chapter and some light editing. It is always appreciated!

**Warning**  - A few lines of an adult type scenario ahead... just a touch. No serious worries.

I am excited for you all to read this chapter. I think you will like it! Enjoy!

* * *

Belinda sat at her desk, looking through her notes while she waited for the arrival of her father. She expected him to burst through the door at any moment, so she had dismissed her guard. She waited alone.

Ever since Gethin and his cohorts had demanded that she produce a son as quickly as possible, she had been researching ways to ensure that she fell pregnant almost immediately. This was no easy task. Magic did not lend itself readily to such acts of creation, and medical magics went only so far when it came to procreation. Belinda had learned of many herbal remedies that she might use to boost her fertility, but none promised quick conception. Nor could any of them guarantee the sex of the child, which was critical.

Belinda had never wanted children. Even as a child herself, she found other children to be annoying and messy. Babies had never interested her, and she had never held one in her life. The idea of carrying another human being around in her body, not to mention the idea of labor and delivery, was repulsive. Belinda shuddered as she thought about it. She would almost rather have done anything else in the world, but she didn't have a choice.

She looked back at her notes and the stack of books on her desk. Her research was starting to lead her down some very dark paths. She was finding a few promising leads, but they were all forms of blood magic, dark and rather gruesome. Those dark magics that she had found could induce conception, if prepared in advance and used at the right moment. But like any other woman, she would have to wait until the child formed more fully before finding out the gender. Should she conceive a daughter, she would have to take steps to rid herself of the child before she could enter the world. Then Belinda would have to begin the process all over again. Although, a daughter would not be a complete waste. There were some rituals that could only be performed should she find herself in that situation. These could help her conceive again, and faster than the first time.

Still, Belinda clenched her hands together in frustration. There had to be some way she could ensure a son on the first try! She was reaching for another book when the door to her bedroom swung open and hit the wall with a thump. She jumped slightly and turned in her chair.

Gethin stood in the doorway. He had a look about him that immediately told her she would have to be extremely careful not to anger him. Her father's eyes were dark as they swept around the room, not missing a single detail of her private chamber. Belinda was grateful that she had already sent her guard away. In his current mood, there was no telling what he might do. Even she, as the daughter central to his plans, was not entirely safe from him when he was like this.

She took a deep breath and rose from her seat. Keeping her eyes demurely lowered she curtseyed deeply. "Father." She had learned long ago how best to behave in order to avoid his wrath.

"You will leave within the week," He told her, stepping into the room and closing the door behind himself with a thud.

Her mouth popped open slightly and his eyebrows lowered ominously. Hurriedly she schooled her face into a more docile expression. "Yes, Father. Where am I to go?"

"To the Goblin Kingdom, of course! There are too many rumors flying about, and Jareth seems to be treating his betrothal as some sort of annoyance, rather than as the highly important event it is."

She bowed her head in acquiescence, but something about her expression must have betrayed her thoughts because he snarled at her, "I don't care what you think about it. You will go, and you will seduce him as quickly as possible. That… Sarah…" He sneered as he spat the name with intense disgust. "That girl is a danger to all of our carefully laid plans. There are too many rumors of Jareth's attachment to the Champion of the Labyrinth for them to be baseless."

"Yes, Father," she whispered, hoping that he would leave soon. The longer she was in his presence when he was like this, the more danger she was in.

"I don't care what you have to do to procure an invitation to the Castle Beyond the Goblin City, but I want you there by the end of the week! You will remain at his side until you have not only conceived a son but birthed the whelp as well." Having repeated himself once again, Gethin turned and jerked the door open. As before, the door banged into the wall, putting yet another dent in the wood. He stalked out, leaving his daughter alone in her chambers.

When he was gone, Belinda shut the door softly and sank back into her chair. She was shaking, but no longer with fear. Now she was shaking with rage. How dare Jareth put her in this position! She cared nothing for him, but she would see him in hell before she allowed him to make a fool of her by dallying with another woman while they were betrothed. And with a mortal woman-!

Taking a deep breath to regain some control, Belinda rang for a servant. Turning back to the desk piled high with books, she began stacking those that she would need to take with her. A tentative tap on the door told her that her guard had returned.

She didn't bother to turn and greet the woman with her usual affection. The young woman knew immediately that things had not gone well.

"When do you leave?" she asked quietly. She stood with her shoulders slumped miserably, watching as Belinda finished stacking the books and papers before moving on to the wardrobe.

"I am to be there by the end of the week." Belinda stopped short at the sound of a small sigh. The look on the other woman's face was anguished and Belinda smiled at her. Pausing in her task, Belinda walked over and took her hand. "You'll be coming with me, of course. I would never leave you behind."

"He won't like it. Your father will force you to leave me behind-"

"Shhhh…" Belinda reached out gently cupped the other woman's face. "He will not prevent it, because I will give him no opportunity to do so." She drew the guards face down and kissed her, gently at first, and then more insistently. She allowed her hands to slide down and pinch her lover's nipples roughly through her tunic. The other woman moaned lightly and drew her into a tight embrace.

As things heated up, Belinda thought briefly of all the things she needed to do before pushing those thoughts aside. There would be time enough for that later...

* * *

Jareth stood at the city gates, looking out over the newly repaired Labyrinth. His breath steamed in the cold air and a coating of snow covered the ground and walls. Despite the wintry weather, the last several days had seen him put the finishing touches on the repairs. As far as he could tell, all of the decay, even that in and around the Bog of Eternal Stench, was now repaired. Working around the Bog had not been a pleasant experience. There was something unsettling about that place that went far beyond just the smell. It was tainted, and Jareth couldn't put his finger on how or why.

He shrugged his cloak closed and pushed thoughts of the Bog out of his mind. As far as he knew, it had always been that way. He could sense no immediate danger and it didn't seem to have contributed in any way to the sabotage that he suspected, despite the prevalence of damage in and around the Bog. Jareth strode into the Labyrinth, trailing his gloved hand through the snow on top of the bushes that made up the area around the entrance today. He had not found any clues as to who was responsible for the damage, nor could he find any explanation for the manner in which the damage to the Labyrinth had been donee. Perhaps he would be able to turn his attention to some more serious research into the matter now that the immediate need for repairs had passed.

Jareth strode deeper into the Great Maze, entering a stone section. Winter had caused most of the vegetation to die back, but Jareth could see the healthy looking vines and plants scattered about, just waiting for warmer weather to burst into bloom once again. Although the Labyrinth still looked weathered and old, it was no longer the crumbling mess that his neglect had allowed it to become. Overall, he was proud of what he and the repair crews had accomplished.

While he was proud of the work and the finished product, Jareth was not exactly pleased to have finished the project. Without the constant need to repair the Labyrinth, he would have nothing to excuse his lack of interest in courting Belinda. He scowled and walked faster, trying to outrun his thoughts. He was going to have to actually turn his attention to the woman he was to marry in the spring.

Belinda was expected to arrive in the Goblin Kingdom within the week. When she had written and told him of her intention to visit him, Jareth's first instinct had been to deny her request. Eventually, common sense won out. What did it matter if she came before the wedding or after? The Castle Beyond the Goblin City would eventually be her home as well as his. It made sense for her to want to spend some time there. Hopefully it would make it easier for her to settle into her eventual role of Goblin Queen as well.

Thinking about Belinda as the Goblin Queen caused his heart to ache. Jareth had once hoped that Sarah would become his Queen, and having to accept another in her stead was a bitter pill to swallow. Jareth scowled at the thought and transformed into an owl. Launching himself into the air, he soared up and over the Labyrinth to better take in all of the completed work.

As he surveyed his handiwork, he remembered Sarah's dig about the state of the Labyrinth. He screeched in triumph.  _If only you were here to see it now_ _,_  he thought. Despite his best efforts, and those of Ethan and nearly half of the Goblin Army, Sarah was still missing and he was no closer to finding her.  _Where are you, Sarah?_

That evening, Jareth sat at the head of the table, surrounded by members of his court. He stared down at his food, idly pushing it around his plate while the chatter of his people went on around him. His mind was still on Sarah, although now his thoughts had turned more to the Sarah of his dreams than the actual missing woman.

He knew he should be paying more attention to what was going on around him, but something about those dreams was bothering him and he couldn't put his finger on what it was. He kept replaying them in his mind, going over and over the scenes, hoping to figure out what it was that he was missing.

Jareth was thinking over the latest tangible dream he'd had, the one of Sarah in the grasslands with a bow and new clothing, when someone spoke next to him.

"What?" Jareth snapped, looking up from his plate in annoyance.

The servant girl took a half step back and the chatter around him died back slightly as people turned to stare to their King. Jareth immediately regretted his harsh tone. Although the girl was the one who had made advances toward him in the past, she was obviously there to refill his wine glass. Her downcast eyes and trembling lip made it clear to Jareth that she had just been trying to do her job.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you." Jareth tried to put an apologetic tone into his voice as he sat up straighter and gave the servant girl his full attention.

"Wine, Your Majesty?" The girl kept her eyes lowered but did step forward again, raising the pitcher in her hands.

Jareth shook his head and covered his wine glass with his hand. "Thank you, but no. I'm fine."

Ducking her head slightly, the girl moved on down the table. Now that his attention was no longer fixed on his plate, Jareth became aware that Ethan, seated at his right hand, was watching him. He had obviously seen the entire exchange.

As the noise of talk and laughter started back up in the wake of the incident, Ethan shook his head and asked, "What is wrong with you?" He leaned back in his chair, tossing his napkin on his plate. "What's put you in such a mood lately? I would expect that you would be pretty pleased with yourself. The Labyrinth is repaired, you can turn your thoughts to more pleasant pursuits now."

"Not now, Ethan." Jareth stood abruptly, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape. The room instantly fell silent and he sighed inwardly before addressing the crowd that now stared at him. "Please, continue your meals, everyone. I apologize for my abrupt departure, but duty calls."

Jareth strode out of the dining hall, heading for his private rooms. The moment the king disappeared through the doors, Ethan stood and followed him.

* * *

Jareth strode quickly through the halls, still distracted by his own thoughts. As he passed his office, he noticed that a light was still burning. Curious, Jareth pushed the door open and stepped inside. Seated at a smaller desk just inside the door was a young man with wild red hair and a serious expression. He was intent on the paperwork in front of him but looked up when the king entered the room.

He started to scramble to his feet but Jareth held up a hand to forstall him. "Remain seated, Mishal. We won't ever get any work done if you insist on jumping to your feet every time you see me."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"I thought I had dismissed you for the day?" If there was one thing that could be said for the half Ifrit young man that Jareth had brought into his household as his private secretary, it was that he was very committed to his work. Perhaps a bit too committed. Jareth had gotten out of the habit of holding court and putting on a kingly show. The addition of Mishal to his household had changed that. The young man was very aware of rank and propriety, despite his somewhat wild appearance, and he insisted on arranging Jareth's schedule to include appearances like the dinner he had just left. There had been no real need for Jareth to dine with his court today, it was just an opportunity to remind everyone of how important he was.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I just had a few plans to finalize for Lady Belinda's visit." Mishal shifted uneasily in his seat. Although he had not been in his position long, he was obviously aware that Jareth was not all that thrilled with the idea of marrying the woman.

Jareth nodded curtly. He would have to be more careful to keep his feelings about his impending marriage under wraps. It wouldn't do for his staff to get the idea that he didn't like or respect his future wife. "Well, don't stay too much later. I will expect your presence early tomorrow."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Mishal replied.

Jareth sighed, "You are going to have to start using my given name, Mishal. I detest all this bowing and scraping."

Mishal ducked his head. "If that is your command, Jareth."

"It is." Jareth turned and left the office.

As Jareth continued to make his way toward his rooms, Ethan called from behind him. "Jareth! Hold up!"

Jareth considered teleporting himself straight to the privacy of his sitting room, but he knew that Ethan would not be so easily deterred. Although he might get a few moments of peace and quiet to think, it wouldn't be long before Ethan was pounding on the door, demanding to be let in to talk. With a sigh, Jareth slowed and waited for Ethan to catch up instead. He obviously wasn't going to get away without talking to his old friend about what had happened in the dining hall.

"Couldn't stand to sit there playing king anymore?" Ethan asked with a grin.

As the two fell into step, Jareth scowled slightly and then chuckled, trying to make light of the situation. "Yes, I've gotten lazy about royal duties, but Belinda will be here soon for a visit. I suppose that I will have to get used to the pomp and pretentiousness of courtly functions again."

"There was a time that you reveled in all of the attention," Ethan reminded him.

Jareth sighed. "Not anymore." He thought about the reason for his withdraw from the Court and from his own lesser court here in the Goblin Kingdom and his heart squeezed in his chest. Where was she?

Ethan gave him a hard look but Jareth waved him away. No matter what he or Diona said, they couldn't shake Ethan from his insistence that Sarah was a danger to the Goblin Kingdom. Jareth simply didn't want to get into it right now.

"You are going to have to get her out of your head."

"I know that!" Jareth exploded, stopping short just outside his door. He lowered his voice and looked around, hoping that no one else had heard his outburst. Glowering at Ethan, he opened the door to his chambers and ushered the General inside before continuing to speak. "I have to find her, Ethan. For the sake of the Underground as much for her own. She is carrying too much power."

"Well she isn't in your kingdom," Ethan told him tightly. "We have searched everywhere and come up empty. Another search will produce nothing but further ill will on the part of your subjects. They were less than pleased to have their homes searched over and over for a woman that none of them had even heard of, much less seen."

"I know... I know." Jareth collapsed into an armchair and removed his gloves. He tossed them on the table next to the chair and rubbed his tired eyes."

"You need to get some sleep," Ethan observed.

Jareth waved a hand, indicating that he had heard Ethan but said nothing. In his mind, he was going over his dreams yet again, trying to see what it was about them that he was missing. Ethan waited for a reply but eventually sighed when none was forthcoming.

"Please, Jareth, get some sleep," he said, opening the door quietly. Jareth barely noticed when he left.

Several hours later, Jareth was still sitting in the same place. It was late at night but he was hovering in that place between sleep and wakefulness, pondering the meaning of the dreams. Although it had been some time since he had dreamed tangibly of Sarah, he couldn't stop thinking about her, especially about her change in appearance. There was something about the way she had looked and the gear she had worn that told him that the dreams were more than they seemed to be.

As he skirted the edge of dreaming, he caught the sound of a voice, softly calling his name. Jareth started into wakefulness and looked around the room. There was no one there. Rubbing his neck to ease the soreness brought on by half sleeping in a chair, he decided that he'd had quite enough of that for one night. He made his way into the bedroom, not bothering with any lights, and removed his clothing before slipping beneath the sheets. As his body heat warmed the cool bed, Jareth closed his eyes and tried to keep his mind blank. Thoughts of Sarah drifted through it the moment his eyes were closed, and he shifted around in irritation. Once again, he heard his name, like the sigh of the wind, drifting through the room. He sat up and looked around in the darkness. Like before, there was no one there.

Slightly disturbed, Jareth once again laid back in the bed and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply, emptying his mind. As he neared sleep, he heard the voice again. This time it was accompanied by slight tugging at his soul, right over the newly healed patch that had been raw for so long. With a sigh, Jareth surrendered to the pull and let sleep take him.

* * *

Sarah fought sleep for as long as she could, but in the end, her need for rest overrode her determination to avoid dreaming. After her discussion with Samoth, it was natural that Jareth would be on her mind, so she wasn't surprised to find herself watching him walk toward her as she stood in the center of the Henge.

"Interesting choice of attire," Jareth told her, stopping several feet away.

Looking down, Sarah found herself in the poofy dress that she had worn during their shared dream when she ran the Labyrinth. "What in the world?" she asked in confusion.

Jareth chuckled. "It seems a bit small now." He indicated her chest and hips, which were straining the seams of a dress made for a teenage girl. Her cleavage in particular, threatened to spill out the top of the dress at any moment.

Sarah's faced glowed with embarrassment and she took a deep breath, wondering what to do next. Before she could make up her mind, Jareth created a crystal and blew it in her direction, like a soap bubble. When it made contact with her dress, it somehow altered the gown so that it not only fit, but was subtly more suited to the woman she was now rather than to the child she had been when she last wore it. Although it was still, undeniably, a ball gown, it was a sleeker more adult version of the dress.

Sarah looked up to see that Jareth was watching her intently. "Thank you?" She said uncertainly. She knew that she should be fighting to wake herself up. This was the exact type of dream that she had been working so hard to avoid. If she allowed it to continue, she would pay for the indulgence with further pain and heartache when she awoke. She would have to work to push it all back down again so she could function as a normal person in the morning. Really, it would just be wiser to turn and walk away. Despite all of that, Sarah could feel her resolve slipping. It was, after all, just a dream.

As she watched him, a look passed over Jareth's face that she couldn't identify. For a moment, he looked almost angry, but it quickly passed and a soft smile formed on his lips. Music suddenly swelled around them, seeming to come from the very air itself, and he held out his gloved hand. "Dance with me?"

Without thinking, Sarah reached out, placing her hand on his. The smile on his face grew wider and his eyes lit with pleasure as his fingers tightened around hers. She smiled back as he swept her into his arms and she gave herself up to the dance.

They danced, lost in each others eyes and indifferent to time and surroundings. Eventually, the music faded and their movement stopped. Still, they did not break contact. Slowly, Jareth lowered his head as she gazed up at him. Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips softly brushed over her own.

His first kiss was gentle, hesitant even. Sarah pulled her hand from his and slid both arms up around his neck to pull him closer, reveling in the feel of him and wanting more. If this was all she was ever to have of him, then she would take it and damn the consequences. Those could wait for morning. He pulled away slightly before wrapping his arms around her waist and crushing her body against his own while he claimed her mouth again. This kiss was different from the first. It was passionate, demanding, and above all, hungry. Sarah wanted nothing more than to surrender to it, revel in it, and see where it could take her. Fire ignited in her body at the need she could feel within him, a fire that she realized would destroy her if she let it.

Coming to her senses, she pulled back, breathing heavily. He broke the kiss, but didn't release her. Her heart pounded as she opened her eyes and looked at him. "Sarah… I…" She shook her head and pulled away. He let her go, but not willingly.

"I can't do this Jareth. This is a bad idea."

The disappointment on his face stopped her breath and made her throat ache, but she couldn't let this go any further, no matter what her body wanted. He took a slow breath. "Yes, you're right." He turned away and the set of his shoulders told her that he was struggling for control as much as she was. Without looking at her, he began to pace, his long strides eating up the distance between the sides of the stone circle.

Sarah stood still. She wasn't sure what to do. This was just a dream, and one that she had been enjoying... too much. It had felt so real, but that very tangible quality was the problem. She could almost believe that Jareth was really there with her and she could no longer deny her feelings for him. In the back of her mind, she knew that morning was surely rushing toward her, and continuing down this path would only bring further heartbreak. Despite her attraction to him and the feelings he was invoking in her, the Jareth in front of her was nothing more that an illusion created by her own feelings - a trick of her mind. Still, she couldn't seem to tear herself away. Her heart was still racing at the memory of his embrace and she was torn between self preservation and her own desire to lose herself in his arms.

"Jareth…"

He paused in his pacing and turned toward her at the sound of his name on her lips. She opened her mouth to speak again but the words wouldn't come. She wanted to tell him of her feelings, of her desire to take back her past choices, but she couldn't. Fear held her silent. She swallowed hard and shook her head mutely.

Jareth sighed. "I'm sorry, Sarah. I shouldn't have done that."

"No, it's not you. I just…" she trailed off, uncertain where to take the conversation.

Jareth looked around with interest, taking in the Henge and the fires that glowed outside the circle. There were shadows moving out beyond the sentinels that marked the edge of the Henge but Sarah ignored them, gazing only at Jareth.

"This is an interesting place," he commented. "I feel like I should know what this is but I can't place it. I've certainly never been here, so why am I dreaming this?"

"Huh?" Sarah cocked her head slightly. "I'm the one dreaming this. Watch."

She concentrated hard, trying to change her clothing and prove that she was in control of the dream. She wasn't really sure who she was trying to convince more, herself or Jareth. After several moments, she sighed in relief. She was once more dressed in the warm utilitarian clothing that she wore every day. Her knife was at her waist, her bow slung across her back and her staff was in her hand. "See," she said proudly. "My dream."

As Jareth took in her change of appearance, a look of shock swept across his face and he went pale. "That bow…" he took several steps forward and Sarah backed up, bringing her staff up into a defensive position in front of her as she tried to stay out of reach. His reaction confused her. Sarah didn't think he would hurt her, didn't think he really could, if this was her dream, but she also didn't think that she would have the strength to pull herself out of his arms a second time. It was wiser to keep her distance.

"What about it?" For some reason, his tone made her edgy. For every step forward that he took, Sarah took one back.

Jareth stopped moving, his eyes taking in her appearance for several minutes before looking again at their surroundings. "Sarah, where are you?" His eyes were intense as he looked at her and she swallowed hard.

"What do you mean? I'm dreaming, of course. Didn't I just prove that?" She cautiously lowered her staff but kept herself well balanced and ready to bring it up at a moments notice.

Jareth shook his head. "No, Sarah, I don't think we are dreaming. At least, not in the traditional sense."

Sarah cocked her head to one side and looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Look at me, Sarah. Really look at me. How do I look?"

She looked closely at Jareth and noted that he looked slightly different than she remembered. His hair was longer than it had been when she last saw him and he looked tired. "You look… like you, Jareth. I don't know what you are expecting me to see."

He eyed her staff as he stepped closer. When he was satisfied that she wasn't about to clock him with it, he held out his hand once again.

Sarah, in turn, eyed his hand with some distrust and shook her head. With a sigh, he reached out and disengaged one of her hands from its grip on the staff. Tracing the calluses on her hands, he said, "You didn't have these when I brought you Underground."

Still struggling to understand what he was talking about Sarah shrugged. "Of course not. Those are from-"

"Handling a bow, I know."

Her staff clattered to the ground, momentarily forgotten. Sarah's mouth snapped shut and she pulled her hand out of his grasp. After a moment she replied, "Well of course you know that! My mind created you, this is a dream." She paused and then muttered under her breath, "An ill advised dream."

The muscles in Jareth jaw tightened as he shook his head at her. "No, Sarah, I think this is a shared dream. I'm really here, and so are you. Somehow, we have been sharing dreams for months." He laughed mirthlessly. "All this time we've wasted looking for you and all I needed to do was go to sleep..." His eyes drifted to the bow on her back and then down to the knife at her waist. Recognition dawned on his face and he looked around at their surroundings once again in wonder.

"You're with the centaurs." His attention returned to her and Jareth stepped even closer, lifting a hand to tuck a stray strand of her hair back behind her ear. It wasn't a question, and there was no hesitation in his voice as he said it. It was a statement of fact.

Sarah blinked up at him, unsure of what to say. She wasn't sure if she believed his shared dream theory. So far, he had neither said nor done anything that would lead her to believe that the Jareth standing in front of her was anything more than a product of her own feelings.

As she watched, his relieved expression became tinged with worry. "Who else knows where you are?"

"Huh? Everyone knows where I am." Sarah watched in shock as his expression clouded further and he began to curse fluently.

"Jareth?"

Calming himself, he turned back toward her, his expression serious. "Sarah, we didn't know where you were. The entire Underground has been looking for you. Diona sent you away blindly, trying to save you that day in the forest. The Labyrinth took you and we could find no trace of you. So I need to ask you again, who else knows where you are?"

"Why does it matter?" Sarah looked up at him in confusion. Why would it matter where she was? She was a nobody, despite her supposed status as Airíoch and the plans of the Unaligned. Sarah couldn't imagine why anyone would care where a random mortal woman had gone.

Jareth reached out gripped her upper arms so tightly that she cried out in pain and surprise. His grip eased slightly, but he did not let her go. "Those orcs that raided the Labyrinth were there for you. There are... people... looking for you that you don't want to meet, Sarah. It isn't safe for you to wander around the Underground." His grip loosened even further and he rubbed his hands up and down her arms soothingly, trying to lessen the fear that Sarah could feel creeping up on her. She blinked rapidly, trying to process what he had told her.

She didn't realize that he had made a bench appear behind her until he was pushing her gently down to sit on it. "Sarah? Please tell me-"

"You really aren't a product of my dreams, are you?" She couldn't imagine that her brain would play such a cruel trick on her. No matter how preposterous it sounded, the way he was behaving suddenly made Sarah believe that it really was Jareth who was now seated beside her on the bench, looking earnestly at her and holding her hand in his… holding her hand!?

With a gasp, Sarah jerked her arm back and stood, her cheeks flaming at the memory of how she had been behaving like a lovesick teenager. She turned away from him and covered her face with her hands, not sure whether laughing or crying was the appropriate response to how idiotic she felt at that moment.

Jareth was instantly beside her. "Sarah! What? What's wrong?"

She slowly lowered her hands until they were only covering her mouth and nose and glanced over at him. Anxiety was apparent in every line of his body. He held himself rigid, looking at her with his eyes full of apprehension. "It's really you, isn't it?" she asked, her words muffled by her hands.

His expression darkened. "You are missing the point. Didn't you hear anything I just told you? You are in danger and I need to know who else knows where you are!" His voice was rising and Sarah could see that he was close to losing control.

Sarah lowered her hands and glared at him. He really needed to learn to control his temper better. She was getting tired of him yelling at her, so she deliberately framed a reply that would shock him.

"The entire centaur nation."

Jareth briefly closed his eyes and sank down on the bench. He rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his palms. "The entire centaur nation?" he repeated bleakly. "Then he could already know…"

"Who could already know?" Sarah asked.

He stood quickly, his momentary dejection gone. "Someone you don't want to meet." He reached for her hands again, setting aside her staff and holding both of her hands in his own. "I'm coming to get you," He informed her seriously.

"In the meantime, you need to ask someone to take you to Elder Samoth, he should be able to keep you safe until I…" His voice trailed off as Sarah started to giggle. "What's so funny? This isn't a joke, Sarah!"

Sarah couldn't help it. Here he was telling her to find Samoth, and promising to come and save her! Sarah thought about her status among the centaurs as Samoths adopted granddaughter and the multitude of centaurs that constantly surrounded her. Add in her daily practice with the young centaur fighters and her own skill with her weapons and she dissolved further into gales of laughter. Sarah couldn't imagine that she could be safer unless she was locked in the tallest tower of the Castle beyond the Goblin City.

When her fit of laughter finally passed, she looked up from where she had collapsed on the bench to see Jareth standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and his brows drawn together in irritation at her antics. "Are you quite finished?"

Sarah took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Jareth, it's just that… well, I'm very safe with the centaurs. There's no need for you to come after me."

"I don't think you appreciate the gravity of what I've said."

Now that her mirth had fully passed, she could see how tense he was. More than that, he looked both worried and exhausted. As the realization that people had actually been very concerned dawned on her, Jareth not least among them, Sarah felt a flash of regret for her lighthearted response. She stood up and stepped directly in front of the Goblin King. Placing a hand on his arm, she looked up into his mismatched gaze, trying to tell him with her eyes that she was completely serious. "I'm fine, Jareth. Samoth took me in weeks ago and adopted me. I'm actually… kind of a big deal to the centaurs." She shrugged her shoulders and smiled slightly at the surprise that crept into his expression. "I'm safe, Jareth, I promise. It would be hard to be safer than I am right this very minute since I am surrounded by pretty much every centaur on the plains. I don't need you to come and get me."

Sarah watched the tension drain out of him as he listened to what she was telling him. His shoulders slumped slightly and he reached out, drawing her against his chest and lowering his cheek to rest on the top of her head.

They stood that way for several minutes, neither one wanted to move. With her head pressed against Jareth's chest, Sarah could once again hear his heartbeat. It was just as soothing this time as it had been last time they stood like this. Slowly, Sarah recognized that her own heart was beating in the same rhythm as his. Each beat drained away some of the pain that she had been feeling for weeks, leaving her with a feeling of peace.

As the pain in her chest ebbed, Sarah began to feel a sensation that she realized had also been with her for some time, but that she had been ignoring because of the searing pulses of pain that regularly shot through her chest. Her head hurt and her body ached. It felt like an incipient bout of the flu, although there didn't seem to be any other symptoms. She stirred slightly in his arms, trying to ease the aches and Jareth murmured something into her hair that Sarah couldn't hear. "What?" She pulled away slightly and looked up at him.

"I said, I'm still coming to get you." Her expression darkened and he hurried on. "There are things you don't understand and others you don't know. I need to bring you back to the Goblin Kingdom."

"But I told you I was safe!" Sarah shivered slightly and leaned into his warmth.

"Sarah-" he paused as though trying to figure out the best way to convince her. He placed a finger under her chin and raised her face up to his. For a moment, it looked as though he were going to say more, but instead, he dipped his head and kissed her.

He deepened the kiss and Sarah gave herself up to it, her heart leaping in her chest until a chill swept over her body and she shivered. Jareth broke the kiss immediately, "Sarah?"

She shivered again and looked up at him. The pain in her head suddenly intensified and she cried out, clutching the sides of her head.

A moment later, she opened her eyes to see the interior of her tent. It was still dark out, but the fires in the braziers, which had been banked for the night, were raging high enough to be in danger of setting the entire tent ablaze. She blinked around in the firelight. The cushions and pillows scattered throughout the tent, as well as the interior wall hangings, had changed. Where before they had been multicolored and bright, they were now deep shades of red and purple. Before she could make sense of it, another shot of pain lanced through her head. Sarah cried out with the intensity of the pain, closing her eyes and falling back against her bed.

The next time she opened her eyes, bright sunlight was hitting the exterior of her tent, lighting the interior and making the newly colored cushions and hangings glow. She sat up slowly, trying to piece together what had happened the night before. She remembered Jareth, but everything after that was fractured oddly. She searched her memory but could only capture wisps and fragmented scenes. Jareth reaching out and begging her to come back, then a figure standing over her, cloaked and hooded, watching her with a cruel smile. She had a feeling that she had been chased by that figure, but she couldn't remember any details.

Shaking her head Sarah stood slowly. Her body still ached, but the pain in her head seemed to have subsided. She took a deep breath and smiled at the absence of the tearing pain near her heart that she had become accustomed to lately. The sounds of the camp that floated through the walls of her tent told her that it was time to be out and about. Sarah dressed quickly, her grin widening.

She was still smiling when she entered Samoths tent after breakfast.

* * *

"You are in a good mood this morning," Samoth commented when he looked up and saw the smile on Sarah's face.

Sarah nodded and then sat down cross legged on a cushion, wincing a little bit as she did so. "I was thinking while I ate this morning. Diona told me that I needed time to adjust, to grieve my losses and come to terms with everything that has happened to me."

Despite his elation at her words, Samoth kept his voice calm and understanding. "And do you think that you have done that?"

She nodded again and rubbed her hands on her thighs, as though her legs pained her. "I think so. I guess Doctor Preston would say that I'm ready to 'move on' but I still miss my brother and my father." Her face clouded and she took an unsteady breath to push back the tears that Samoth could see threatening to tumble down her cheeks. He waited a moment in silence and she continued, "Anyway, I feel… at peace? I guess I feel comfortable here. I still miss my father and my brother, but I don't feel like my world ended the night my father died anymore."

Samoth looked at her and smiled gently, nodding. These feelings were a normal part of the grief process. He had seen in many times. "The loss remains, but the pain will fade with time."

As he spoke, there was a slight scratching in the side of the tent and a young centaur entered. Samoth smiled again at Sarah before turning his attention to the newcomer.

"Forgive my intrusion, Elder, but the scouts that you left on the border have returned."

Relief flooded through him. Although he had minimized his worry for Sarah's sake, Samoth had been berating himself daily for leaving those hunters to patrol the border and face the harsh winter away from the clans. It seemed that his gamble had paid off, however. The only reason that they would have returned is if they had news from the Realms. "Everyone made it safely?" He wanted the reassurance that no harm had come of his decision.

The young centaur nodded and held out a sealed packet with the crest of the High King stamped into the wax seal. Once he had handed it over, the young centaur bowed briefly and inclined his head to Sarah before stepping back out of the tent. Samoth turned back to Sarah. "So, you have been thinking and you feel better about your fate?" He broke the seal and began to sort through the dispatches.

On the edge of his vision, he could see Sarah hesitate for a moment as her mind registered his use of the word 'fate'. She still hated that word.

"I don't know that I would call it that." She watched him curiously as he read through the dispatches. He waited for her to continue speaking, but it seemed that she was more interested in the news from the Realms. He couldn't blame her. They had spoken many times of the need to know what was going on in the rest of the Underground. Now at last they would find out and perhaps he would be able to see more clearly the shape of the change that he could feel lurking on the horizon.

He was so distracted by thoughts of the coming strife that when he got to the betrothal announcement for the Crown Prince he had to pause to reread it. He could feel the blood drain from his face as he considered what this could mean for the Underground, and for Sarah. This wasn't supposed to happen! He glanced up to see Sarah still watching him curiously. Flustered, he quickly folded up the betrothal announcement and shuffled it to the bottom of the pile.

"What's that?" Sarah asked curiously.

"Just a packet of dispatches from Fialis, nothing to worry about." Although his tone was light, he just couldn't look at her. She was making so much progress. Despite her refusal to speak of him at length, Samoth had read enough between the lines to be certain that Sarah harbored strong feelings for the Goblin King. There was no telling how she would react to this news.

He eyed her warily as Sarah stood and approached him. Despite his size in comparison to her small stature, Samoth stepped back. Sarah crossed her arms over her chest and eyed the papers with suspicion. "If it's nothing, then why do you look like you've seen a ghost? Can't you tell me about it?"

"Sarah, this isn't something you are ready to see." He looked at her earnestly, hoping that she would accept his judgement and stop pushing, but she only set her jaw stubbornly. Samoth knew that he couldn't keep this news from her for long. Among the many things that he had received from the High King was an official summons, something that rarely happened. He had to travel to Fialis or forfeit the centaurs place at Court. The news that every kingdom in the Underground was looking for Sarah made it clear that she would have to join him. He had been right, things were starting to happen in the Realms, and both he and his people would be needed, as would Sarah.

Sarah said nothing. She only continued to look at him meaningfully. He sighed and handed her the betrothal announcement. He had been hoping that she would have more time before she was pulled into the greater world of the Underground, but this, along with the other information he had received, meant that Sarah was out of time.

* * *

Sarah took the paper that Samoth handed her, thinking about what Jareth had said about everyone in the Underground looking for her. She supposed it was some sort of missing persons announcement.

She only got about halfway through the document before she couldn't read any more. Her hand fell to her side and the announcement dropped from her suddenly nerveless fingers. Sarah stared straight ahead, willing herself not to think.  _Be strong and live in the moment, be strong and live in the moment, be strong… be… strong..._ The words swirled through her head as she fought to rebuild the walls that had finally crumbled completely the night before, but it was too late. Samoth had been right, she was bound to Jareth. No walls could keep him out of her heart, and nothing could break those bonds.

A hand closed on her shoulder and Sarah looked up in surprise. She had forgotten everything but the words written on the piece of paper that now lay on the ground at her feet. She looked up at the old centaur and realized that Samoth was speaking to her, but she couldn't hear him over the rushing sound of her own heartbeat.

That place near her heart, the one that had seemed to heal as she stood with Jareth in their dream the previous night, tore open with a pain so agonizing that she expected to look down and see a hole in her chest. She gasped, trying to fill her lungs for a scream of pain but she couldn't make a sound. It felt like there wasn't enough air in the world to fill her suddenly starved lungs.

Sarah collapsed to her knees on the floor of the tent, heedless of Samoth's presence. She thought about the time that she had spent with Jareth in her dreams, how it had felt to be in his arms, the passion in his kiss, the way he had looked at her. Her body began to shake as her mind processed the meaning of it all. Had it all been a lie? He was engaged... promised to another... and he hadn't said anything. Had he just been using her? Was he still playing games?

Sarah finally screamed out her anguish. Her shaking turned to shivering as her vision slowly filled with glittering sparkles. The air crackled around her, filled with an ominous energy. The body aches that had been with her all morning suddenly intensified and Sarah fell to her side, unable to keep herself upright any longer.

The heartbreak she had been feeling joined with the new agony that now overtook her. Sarah's vision began to go dark and her back arched as she writhed on the floor. She was trying to scream again, but no sound came out. Pain had locked down every muscle in her body and it felt like there was a monster inside her, tearing through her on its quest for freedom. She couldn't contain it. It would explode out of her, blowing her apart as it did so.

The white hot agony caused her vision to darken. First just the edges, as though she were looking down a long dark tunnel filled with swirls and sparks of light. Finally, even those faded, and Sarah felt her hold on consciousness start to slip. Strangely, her hearing seemed to sharpen, the sounds around her getting louder in her ears the closer she was to blacking out. She could hear Samoth, yelling for assistance and the sound of hooves galloping toward the tent from every direction.

"Hold on, Sarah."

She felt the Elder lay a hand on her forehead as he began to chant something unintelligible by her side. Then, even her hearing began to recede. With it went her grip on reality. Almost gratefully, Sarah welcomed the oblivion that rose up to meet her and sweep her away from it all.

* * *

Cold. It was so cold.

Katie awoke, face down on the floor of the dungeon, shivering. Her breath steamed in the air as she struggled upright, looking around blearily. Although she could see little of the room, she slowly became aware that she was not alone. All around her were the sounds of other people, shuffling and coughing in the shadows. Her head was pounding and she put her hand up, feeling the massive lump on the back of her skull. As her vision cleared, she saw that she had been lying in a patch of pale sunlight filtering down from a skylight in the center of the stone ceiling above her. It was the only light in the room and she could see nothing beyond it. Fearful, Katie staggered out of the light, heading for the relative safety of the darkness that gathered around the edges of the room.

As her eyes adjusted, she began to make out the shapes of the people who were imprisoned with her. She slowly searched the faces, looking for any that might be familiar to her, but came up empty. Although there were many there who frightened her, rough looking men and women with dead eyes, she didn't see anyone that she recognized, which meant that she was on her own.

Finding an unoccupied stretch of wall, Katie sank down and drew her knees up to her chest, shivering in the cold. She rested her forehead on her knees to avoid putting pressure on the sore spot on her skull and closed her eyes, trying to remember how she got here.

_The climb up onto the the balcony had been absolutely terrifying, despite Stryan's reassurances. By the time she had slithered awkwardly over the railing her arms and legs had been quivering with strain. She had been glad to sit quietly and rest a bit while someone picked the lock on the balcony door. Stryan sat beside her, not talking, but smiling supportively whenever he caught her eye._

_Finally, the door swung open with a shriek that seemed impossibly loud to Katie. She shot to her feet, biting back a cry and wondering how she would get back to ground level without getting caught. Stryan stood as well, placing a hand on her shoulder and leaning in close._

_"It'll be alright, as long as you stick with me. I'll make sure you are ok." He spoke so quietly that no one else heard as the group began to slip into the room beyond the balcony. "You've never done anything like this, have you?"_

_Katie paused outside the doors and shook her head. Stryan smiled kno_ _wingly. "I didn't think so." He grabbed Katie's wrist and pulled her along with him as he slipped into the house._

_Once inside they had clustered together around the group leader._

_"You, you, you, and you," he said in a whisper, pointing to indicate several members of the group, including Stryan. "Find the library and retrieve the items the Duchess wants. The rest of you will follow me down to the strongroom. There's a box down there that'll mean an easy year for us all." He grinned and rubbed his hands together. After a moment Katie realized that he had just separated her from Stryan and she shot him a panicked glance._

_"Katie needs to stay with me," Stryan whispered forcefully._

_The leader shook his head. "I need you in the library, your skills'll come in handy. It's too risky to send her in there. She's clearly got no experience and the library'll be full of alarms, most like, if the items really are as valuable as the Duchess expects."_

_Stryan opened his mouth to argue again but the leader cut him off with a glare. "Get moving or this'll take all night."_

_Without waiting for any further argument, the thieves split into two groups and Katie found herself being dragged off in the opposite direction from Stryan. She paused to glance back over her shoulder. Stryan was looking after her with a worried expression. The leader grabbed her arm with a low grunt and tugged her along after them, forcing her to turn and pay attention to where she was going. She got one more glimpse of the handsome young thief before they turned a corner and headed down a flight of stairs, deeper into the house._

_Katie lost track of the turns they made as they moved silently through the darkened residence, pausing every now and then to listen for any movement from the residents. She was just asking herself, for what seemed like the hundredth time, what the hell she was doing there when they arrived at a thick wooden door with heavy metal fittings and an impressive lock._

_"This is it," the leader whispered. "Manny, get up here and pick this lock, and hurry it up."_

_Katie stood nervously looking up and down the dark hallway while they waited for the young thief called Manny to work the lock open. She couldn't shake the feeling that they would be discovered at any moment. When the door finally swung open, she breathed a sigh of relief._

_Her relief was short lived. As soon as the door was open, several members of their group surged forward, eager to get a look at the riches within. As they passed through the door, one of them was shoved up against to the door frame, triggering an alarm. A horrible sound rang out through the house. It was a shrieking, clanging sound that reverberated off the polished floors and paneled walls._

_"Idiot," the leader snarled at the unfortunate young man who had set off the alarm. He shoved his way into the room and grabbed the large box that sat on the table. Hefting it in his arms, he turned back toward the door. "Grab somthin' quick! Let's go!"_

_The group grabbed what they could from the strongroom and took off running, skidding across the slick wood floors and bumping into corners as they sought an exit. Katie couldn't bring herself to take anything and simply ran, empty handed, behind the group. She had long ago lost any sense of direction and followed blindly along, hoping for the best. Behind them, the sound got louder and the noise of other people running through the corridors was soon evident. Several times, they had to stop and hide as groups of people ran past, heading toward the strongroom. Each time, Katie was convinced that someone would find them._

_Eventually, she was correct. The gang burst into a large room that looked like some sort of dining hall. As they did so, a group of hastily dressed men entered the room from the other side. When the two groups saw each other, they let out a yell and the thieves took off running toward another door that probably led to the kitchens. Katie ran with them._

_Suddenly, a large shape loomed up to her right, stepping out of a door that she had not seen. The figure raised it's arm and brought the club it held down, right on the back of Katie's head as she ran by._

_Katie had no memory of hitting the ground._

A rattling at the barred door of the cell jerked Katie out of her memories. She froze in fear as a group of guards entered. Several of them had food and pitchers of water. They set their burdens on the floor under the skylight and left. Two of them, however, were clearly searching for someone. They walked along, checking faces until they came to Katie, and stopped.

"On your feet girl." The man reached down and hauled Katie up by her cloak. The other guard, who Katie was surprised to see was a woman, grabbed her wrists and fitted them with thick manacles. She then repeated the operation on her ankles. Once the rings of metal were secure, she yanked on the chains attached to them and headed for the door. Katie tried to follow but stumbled and fell, only to be hauled back to her feet again.

Katie shuffled along between the guards, trying not to trip and wondering where she was going. All sorts of horrific fates tumbled through her mind and she wept quietly as she walked. Eventually the guards brought her to a small room where a bored looking official sat at a plain table. At his back was a roaring fire and Katie found the warmth of the room to be almost painful to her cold limbs.

As she was brought to stand before him, the man behind the table picked up a pen and shuffled some parchment around on the table. "Ah yes, caught trying to burglarize the residence of the Earl of Darkwood…" He glared at her over his papers. "What's your name, girl?"

Her mind raced. Should she give her own name? Should she lie? What if they already knew who she was and this was just a test? She opened and closed her mouth several times but couldn't formulate a reply.

He man sighed in irritation, "Your name, girl. We haven't got all day." He nodded to the guards who had retreated to stand by the door, leaving her to stand alone and shackled in the center of the room. The dark elven man strode up to her and grabbed her by the hair at the nape of her neck, making the sore spot on her head pound even more than it already was.

"He asked you your name, girl."

Tears trickled down Katie's face at the pain, but the delay had given her time to formulate something of a plan. "I- I don't know," she wailed.

"What do you mean?" The man behind the table dropped his pen and leaned forward to stare at her.

"Someone-Someone h-hit me," Katie sobbed as the guard released her and stepped back to his position by the door. Her pain and fear made the situation all that much more believable as she shrank away from them all. "Someone hit- hit m-me and now I don't, I don't know what happened to m-me!"

The man behind the table rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine, if that's the game you want to play." He turned again to the guards. "Solitary. No food. And have a mage come to examine her tomorrow, when she is more tractable. We will get the information we require one way or the other."

The guards nodded and stepped up next to Katie again. At the mention of a mage, her terror increased, tightening its grip and freezing her muscles. She couldn't move. As the guards hauled her bodily away, her feet dragging on the floor behind her, she remembered what Chiara had told her about magic users. They would be able to tell that she was mortal, and they would detect the spell placed on her by the Goblin King. What would happen to her once they found out?

* * *

Chiara slipped out of the warm room and followed the guards as they dragged Katie away. Stryan had said that they would have her up in front of the intake officer as soon as possible, and he had been right. Although it had been difficult to keep Katie in the dark about her presence, the nyxie knew that getting herself caught now wouldn't help her friend. So she had remained high up in the shadows near the ceiling as Katie awoke, and then cowered in the cell. When the human woman was shackled and marched off, Chiara followed stealthily behind them, darting through the barred window in the door while the guards and the intake officer had their attention on Katie.

She shivered as she watched the guards drag Katie down yet another hallway. The old stone prison was freezing. Only select rooms close to the center of the building, like the one she had just left, were heated. The further you got from the center, the colder it got. Despite the cold, it was lucky that they seemed to be headed toward the rear of the prison. This brought them closer to where Stryan and a few others waited for her to come back and make a report about what was going on.

After they had realized that Katie had been captured while fleeing the house, Stryan had argued with the gang about going back to get her. The leader had outright refused, telling them that they had what they had gone in for, and there was no way he was going to risk anyone else on a fool's errand to try and recover some random girl who never should have been part of the mission in the first place.

Stryan had been angrier than Chiara had ever seen him and she had watch in amazement as he went off on the man, loudly berating him for separating them. Despite Stryan's anger, the leader had remained unmoved, telling him to take it up with Vinn.

Her surprise increased when Stryan did exactly that. This was unexpected. Stryan generally avoided Vinn as often as he could manage. Vinn had listened to the story in silence, staring at Chiara with interest the entire time. When Stryan had finished speaking, Vinn remained silent, still watching Chiara as though he was waiting for her to do something. When she did nothing but stare back, the bald man leaned forward, the old leather of his chair creaking.

"Such a fuss over a girl," he'd said, looking at Stryan. "Why bother to get her? She clearly doesn't have any worthwhile skills, or she wouldn't have been caught in the first place."

"Vinn..." Stryan growled.

The bald man ignored the young rogue and turned his attention to Chiara. "Perhaps our young friend has his own reasons for wanting to free the mortal, hmmm?"

Stryan growled wordlessly again and took a half step forward, both hands straying toward his knives. Wisps of shadow floated around him for a moment and the air in the room became thick with his anger.

"We can retrieve her, of course." His eyes flicked to Stryan and then settled back on Chiara. He smiled in a predatory way as the tension oozed out of the room and Stryan relaxed slightly, although his fists remained clenched in anger.

"At what cost?" Chiara had asked, knowing that, with Vinn, there was always a price to pay.

Vinn's eyes again flicked quickly over to Stryan before coming back to Chiara. "Hmmm… no charge. Let's just say that I'm doing this out of the goodness of my heart."

Chaira snorted indelicately. "Bullshit. What game are you playing, Vinn? The Rabarianas, and especially you, don't do charity cases. There's always a price to pay or an angle that you are working. If you aren't going to demand payment then there must be something that you want. What is it?"

"Such a suspicious mind you have, my dear.' He had turned his attention back to Stryan and leaned back in his chair. "Go. You may have three men of your own choosing to rescue the fair mortal maiden."

Stryan practically ran through the door in his haste to round up the necessary men for a rescue. Before following, Chiara had paused to look back at Vinn. "One of these days, you're going to push him too far, and he's going to open your throat, old man."

Vinn threw back his head and laughed. "He can try, and I certainly look forward to the attempt! My protégé is not yet skilled enough to succeed."

His cackling laughter had followed Chiara as she hurried to catch up with Stryan.

Chiara waited only long enough to make sure of which cell they were putting Katie in before slipping out between the bars of a neighboring cell. The windows were several stories up and she scanned the street, searching among the foot traffic for the small group that was waiting for her. She finally spied them, loitering in front of a bakery just down the street. She flew down toward them but stopped when she was only three quarters of the way there. She knew from experience that if she went too much further, she would trigger the spell, and Katie would start screaming.

Chaira hung there for a moment, wondering how to get Stryan's attention without getting any further away from Katie. Finally, she flew up into the air, higher than a man on horseback, but not so high that he wouldn't be able to see her and whistled shrilly.

Stryan's head snapped up and he searched for the source of the noise. Although others on the street also looked for the source of the sound, very few knew what they were looking for, and most missed the small night faerie entirely. When she had the young rogue's attention, she beckoned to him and then flew back to the other side of the street. Settling on a protruding stone in the prison wall, Chiara warmed herself and waited for the group to come to her.

"Why the whistle?" Stryan asked as he jogged up. "Wouldn't it have attracted less attention if you had simply flown over to me?" His gaze alternated between the nyxie and the windows of the prison, high above them.

His interest made Chiara uncomfortable. She shrugged nonchalantly. "Just quicker."

"Have you seen her?" Stryan asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, they hauled her up before an intake officer, just like you said they would." Chiara smiled a little bit. "She wouldn't even give them her name, started blubbering and wailing, claiming that she didn't know who she was because she got hit on the head."

Stryan's eyes widened. "You think it's true?"

Chaira shook her head and giggled a little bit. "Nah, I doubt it. She's too hard headed." Her face fell. "But she wasn't faking the fear, Stryan. We've got to get her out of there!"

"Take it easy, Nyx. We'll get her out as soon as we can." He gestured to the rest of the group. "We've been talking about it while you were on the inside. We think we can break her out at the next shift change, around noon. The morning guards will be tired and hungry, and the afternoon guards won't have come on shift yet. If we are careful, and lucky, we can walk her right out."

Chiara shaded her eyes and looked around at the angle of the shadows. "That doesn't leave much time."

Stryan nodded "We could wait for night…"

"Yeah, but they double the guard at night," Put in one of the men with them.

Chiara nodded. "Yeah, I can get in and out easily at night, maybe even Stryan, but that's a huge risk. With a group of us to run distractions, I think it will actually it will be easier to get to her and break her out during the day."

"Alright then," Stryan said. "During shift change at noon. You'd better get up there Nyx, and let Katie know what's going on.

"I've told you not to call me that," She grumbled as she flew back up to the windows. His laugh floated up behind her.

* * *

Katie sat huddled in the corner of the cell. She was trying to keep warm and figure out what to do next when she heard her name being called in a whisper. Cautiously, she scanned her surroundings. Her eyes lit up when she saw Chiara slip through the window and into the rough stone room.

"Chiara!" Katie staggered to her feet and stumbled over to the window. "I knew you must have been close by."

"Well, I can't exactly get too far away, now can I?" Chaira smiled at her friend and settled on her shoulder. "You should go sit in the corner again. We wouldn't want to draw the attention of the guards by making them think you are talking to someone."

As Katie gingerly sat in her corner once again, Chaira filled her in on the details of the escape plan. "... so you need to be ready at noon. Stryan and the others will walk right in, dressed in guard uniforms and just walk you out. With luck, no one will even question it, but if they do, then we have plans in place to distract them."

"I can't believe Stryan is risking this," Katie breathed quietly.

"I told you he was someone we could trust," Chiara retorted. She said nothing about how unusual she found his behavior.

They waited tensely. Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl, and Katie was both terrified and elated by turns. She couldn't stop thinking about what would happen to them all if everything went wrong. By the time the door to her cell clicked open under Stryan skillful picks, she had worked herself up into a state of near hysteria.

She stood unsteadily as Stryan strode across the room, manacles in hand. Katie nearly fell over again as she tried to meet him in the center of the cell. He grabbed her elbow, lending her support as her head swam. "I'm sorry," she muttered, putting a hand up to her aching head.

"You've had a serious knock on the head," he replied. "I'm not surprised that you're off balance. When we get you out of here, we're going to see a healer and get your head looked at."

Katie started to object but another wave of nausea and dizziness washed over her and she nodded weakly. He held up the manacles in his hand. "I'm going to have to put these on you, just for show, I won't lock them, alright?"

"Ok," Katie whispered, swallowing hard and trying to concentrate on not throwing up. Now that she was up and moving, she felt much worse than she had while sitting. She felt like she should know what was wrong with her, but aching head and distorted vision made it impossible for her to think of the medical term.

They left the cell with Katie manacled between Stryan and another man. Ahead, Katie could see a third member of the group, checking doors and corridors for any guards and waving them ahead when all was clear. Occasionally, he would motion for them to stop while he had a friendly chat with a random guard. Those little exchanges never lasted long, and Katie wondered vaguely how he managed it. They were nearly to the exit when several guards appeared in the hallway between Katie's group and the man reconnoitering ahead.

"What are you doing with this prisoner?" The booming voice made Katie jump, breaking her concentration and sending her fear into overdrive. The sudden movement made her head spin and her vision blur. She tried desperately not to throw up.

"Heading for a healer," Stryan responded calmly. "She took a blow to the head last night. Serves her right, too."

Katie broke out in a cold sweat and her mouth began to water. She swallowed hard, over and over, hoping the action would settle her stomach but it only made it worse. She leaned forward and vomited... all over the guards boots.

The guards shouted angrily and jumped back. The guard who had initially stopped them waved them on. "Just get the bitch out of here!" He stood off to the side, looking down at the mess on his boots in disgust.

"Move," Stryan barked, shoving Katie forward. She stumbled and nearly fell at the unexpected action. He and the other man took hold of her elbows and propelled her into motion. Moving quickly, they turned a corner and descended the last set of stairs.

"Well," Stryan muttered in her ear as they approached the main gate. "That was certainly a creative way of getting out of a tight spot."

Katie's cheeks burned, but she laughed weakly, even as she fought to remain on her feet.

* * *

The heir to the Dwarven Throne shivered as he stumped through the snow drifts piled high on the ridge above Ravencall Pass. His companions were spread throughout the forest in the surrounding mountains, searching for any sign that the enemy was massing to move south, through the pass, and towards the center of the kingdom. He knew better, but couldn't help feeling that he was all alone in the world as the moon rose, lighting the snow covered hills to near daytime brightness.

Ralok thanked the Fates for the light of that moon as he approached the northern end of the pass. It made moving through the snow covered mountain terrain all that much easier. The weeks that he and the scouting party had spent in the mountains had so far been fruitless. They had not seen a single sign of orcs, or any other living creatures besides the birds and beasts of the forest, despite the many sightings that had been reported. That in and of itself was something of a relief, but also a puzzle that he needed to solve. Previous reports had placed orcs and other hostiles roaming through these very woods. Their inability to find even a single trace of them was quite vexing. Eventually he had decided that they would expand their search area to include the northern reaches, beyond the pass. It was absolutely critical that they know the whereabouts of the enemy.

Stopping to rest, Ralok checked the position of the moon and stars once again, trying to gauge how much longer he had until he would have to head toward the rendezvous point that was set for the following morning. He figured that he would be able to move north for roughly three more hours before he had to turn back. That would mean that he would have to run a good portion of the return journey in order to make it, but at least the running would keep him warm.

He started moving again, his breath steaming in the chill air. Moisture from his breath clung to the hairs of his beard and mustache, freezing in the cold. Every so often, he rubbed his face with his fur gloved hands, knocking away the rime of frost that was forming and reducing the stiffness of his facial hair.  _To think I begged my uncle for this assignment_ _,_  he thought wryly. He rolled his eyes and continued north.

The pass was at least an hour behind him when he started to see faint lights in between the trees on the mountains ahead. He slowed cautiously. Those were fires, banked for the night and reduced to little more than coals, but fires nonetheless. He worked his way closer, taking care to make no sound. It was possible, but highly unlikely, that he was about to stumble upon a group of refugees. The far more likely scenario was that he was about to walk up to a massive encampment of orcs, not even a half days march away from Ravencall Pass!

He continued to draw closer to the dying fires, trying to keep a mental tally of their number as he did so. A conservative estimate of three to five orcs per fire still put their numbers well above the estimates that they had made back in Bhandarth. He watched the camp, noting the large orcish figures and other, smaller, and distinctly non-orcish figures that occasionally blotted out the firelight. The moon sank lower and lower and the encampment on the far slope began to stir as the watch was changed. Fires flared as the moon set, more and more of them springing to life all up and down the sides of the far mountain and down into the valley as dawn approached. There was a massive number of orcs and other enemies over there, all ready to spill into the central valleys and begin the attack on Bhandarth at any time.

The eastern sky was beginning to change from black to deep blue, a sure indication that he had tarried too long, when Ralok decided that he had seen enough. He turned and made his way back down the hill he had been crouching on. As soon as he was out of sight of the multitude of fires, he began to jog through the drifts, his sturdy legs pumping as he made his way back toward the pass. To his right, storm clouds began to gather, blotting out the stars. He would have to hurry.

By the time the dwarven prince reached the south side of the pass, the sun had fully risen and the storm was beginning to unleash its fury on the land around him. Although conditions were bad on this side of the pass, he knew that the storm would be even worse on the north side. He chuckled mirthlessly to himself at the thought of the enemy dealing with the brunt of the storm. At the very least it would keep them snowed in for a while.

He was the last to make it back to their agreed upon meeting place. He staggered into the cave, half blinded by the wind whipped snow.

"Ralok! We had feared you had gotten snowed in!" The female dwarf who had spoken rushed to meet him. Grabbing his arm, she guided him back toward the roaring fire, forcing him to sit as she fetched him a mug of warm soup.

"Enna…" his frozen brain took a moment to register the presence of the lieutenant. "You and the others made it back from the border along Avalon then?"

"Late last night," said another dwarf from the group that had been sent to scout the mountains north of the human kingdom. "It's bad news, Ralok. Orcs and other enemies have been massing, thousands strong, for a strike down into Avalon. Conor's border outposts might hold them for a day or two, but without help, they won't last long."

Ralok's heart dropped and he closed his eyes briefly. Without opening his eyes, he asked, "Anyone else see anything worth reporting?" He steeled himself for more bad news but his question was met with silence.

With a sigh, he told them about the massive army encamped north of Ravencall pass. When he finished speaking, the dwarves in the cave were silent, each contemplating the disaster that was about to befall their kingdom.

"That many? What can we do against so many?" Enna breathed in disbelief, breaking the silence. She looked at Ralok, her violet eyes wide and frightened in the flickering firelight.

Ralok looked grim. "We need to get a message to Bhandarth as soon as we can, and another to Conor's border outposts. If we can't, then the entire Underground is going to be swarmed under."

"How much time do we have?"

Ralok couldn't tell who had spoken, he was too exhausted. He simply shrugged. "A week, maybe. The storm will delay them somewhat. We've got to do something to delay them further, if we can."

Enna slid closer to him, placing a hand on his arm. "What are we going to do?" The fear that was in her eyes also tinged her voice, capturing his attention. He covered her hand with his before returning his gaze to the roaring fire.

"I don't know… yet."


	24. Disappointment

**Disclaimer -** Alas, my valentine couldn't get me the rights, so I own nothing of the original Labyrinth.

A/N - Everyone say "Thank You" to ladyofshallot19 for working hard as my Beta. Without her, and others, this story wouldn't be here for you to read, as I'm sure my characters would have driven me to do something drastic by now. Jareth and Sarah are ridiculously frustrating sometimes!

Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Hoggle shivered and stamped his feet, his breath steaming in the predawn cold. Grumbling, he fished a wool cap out of his pocket and crammed it on top of his head, pulling the flaps on the sides down to cover his large ears. "Remind me what we're doing out here at this awful hour?"

Ludo and Didymus had come to his room in the castle, rousing him from his warm bed and insisting that they had urgent business to attend to. All three of them had been staying in the Castle Beyond the Goblin City since they brought Naida to Jareth, each of them unwilling to leave while there was still no news of Sarah. They had not seen much of Naida either. Diona had whisked her away to the Abbey as soon as the rusalka had recovered from her brush with dehydration. They had spoken to her only a handful of times since then.

Hoggle had been feeling very useless of late. He couldn't leave the Labyrinth to find Sarah, despite his attachment to her, unless the King ordered it. He was bound to the Great Maze as a Guardian, and only an order from the King or the Airíoch could allow him to leave for any length of time. Hoggle sighed, he could remember a time when he'd had no desire ever to leave the Labyrinth. Life had been simpler then.

"Why, we are to make a survey of the newly repaired Labyrinth, my brother, do you not remember?" In Hoggle's opinion, Didymus' overly cheerful attitude was entirely inappropriate for the hour.

Hoggle grunted. His head was still pounding. Didymus and Ludo had found him in the Dancing Goblin the previous night, drowning his frustrations in mug after mug of goblin ale. Hoggle wasn't usually given to bouts of drinking, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, he was regretting it.

"I remember some mention of it," he said sourly. "I didn't think ya meant to drag me out into the Labyrinth at this hour, though."

Ludo lumbered up behind him and patted his back heavily. The rock caller smiled. "Brother feel better."

Hoggle merely grunted again in reply.

"So, my brothers. Where shall our duties take us this fine morn? Shall we head east and see the everchanging garden patches? South, to survey the forest and pathways around our brother Hoggle's humble abode? Or Perhaps north, to see the great stone passages?"

"Why not head ta the Bog, just to make the morning even better," Hoggle muttered.

"A splendid idea!" Didymus exclaimed. "Come Ambrosius! We shall return to the lands which once we called home. Tallyho!"

Hoggle groaned aloud. Sarcasm was entirely wasted on Didymus.

The sun slowly rose as they made their way north and west, toward the Bog and the area Didymus used to call home before the damage to the Labyrinth made it too treacherous. With each passing mile, Didymus seemed to get more excited, calling out to Hoggle and Ludo to look at some aspect of the Labyrinth that had been repaired. Even Hoggle had to smile at the fox knight's enthusiasm as his headache slowly wore off, and he began to feel better. After a while, he took out his sprayer and began to look for fairies to get rid of. If he was going to be out and about in the Labyrinth, he might as well enjoy himself. Neither Didymus nor Hoggle noticed that Ludo became increasingly more distracted as they approached the Bog itself.

Soon, they were in the stone passages that ran around the edge of the Bog. Didymus and Ambrosius were galloping back and forth, exclaiming loudly over the quality of the repairs. Hoggle was currently stalking a fairy that flitted ahead of him, moving slowly to try not to scare the little flying pest. When he was close enough, he depressed the plunger causing a fine mist to shoot out of the end of the sprayer, enveloping the fairy in a poisonous cloud. The little creature dropped to the ground, coughing and spasming.

"Four!" Hoggle shouted in triumph. He turned to Didymus and Ludo. "Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all." He took a deep breath before coughing as the stench of the Bog rolled over him, noxious and strong. "Ugh. I don't remember the Bog smellin' this strongly before."

Didymus covered his nose. "Yes, even I can smell it."

Hoggle looked at his friend in surprise. Didymus used to insist that there wasn't any smell in the Bog. For him to agree that the smell was bad, something must have changed. "Perhaps it's just that ya haven't been living here fer a while," he ventured.

"Yes, perhaps." Didymus wrinkled his brow thoughtfully.

Hoggle shrugged and went back to looking for another fairy to spritz. As he did, he passed Ludo standing in the middle of the path, shifting his great weight back and forth uneasily with a strange expression on his face.

"Ludo?" Hoggle patted the rock callers arm but got no response. "Ludo?" The great beasts eyes were closed, his brows furrowed. He looked as though he were in pain, and Hoggle began to feel uneasy.

"Didymus!" He called sharply. "Didymus, get over here! There's somethin' wrong with Ludo!"

Didymus came galloping up on Ambrosius. When he reached the others, he dismounted. "Ludo, my brother, what ails you?"

Ludo made no reply save for a mournful wail. His eyes snapped open, yet it did not appear that he was seeing anything going on around him. Suddenly, there was a strong tremor and the smell of the Bog intensified. Hoggle gagged slightly, grabbing the wall next to him for support.

"What's goin' on?" he shouted.

"I do not know, my brother!" Didymus called. Ambrosius whimpered in fear and pressed himself against the wall, making himself as small as possible.

The tremor ceased as suddenly as it started. When it did so. Ludo began to lumber off down the passage, toward a dead end that Hoggle knew contained a hidden door to the lower levels of the Labyrinth.

"Ludo! Wait!" Hoggle hurried after the rock caller. Didymus followed as well, stopping every few steps to try and convince Ambrosius that it was safe to move again.

"Come on, Ambrosius. There is nothing to fear. I say! Come On!"

Ludo reached the door to the underground passages and fumbled around the edge, clearly looking for the catch. Hoggle turned back to see Didymus still struggling with Ambrosius. "Ambrosius!" he called. "Here boy!" He let out a whistle. Ambrosius perked up his ears and galloped toward Hoggle.

"My word!" Didymus exclaimed in shock. "How ever did you get him to do that?"

Hoggle sheepishly dug into one of the many pouches that he kept on his belt and produced a treat for the dog. "Like this."

Didymus glowered and began muttering under his breath, something about making his steed to fat to carry him into battle. His mutterings were cut short by the sound of the door opening behind them. Ludo had evidently found the catch.

"Ludo, my brother. Where are you going?" Didymus inquired.

A small tremor shook the ground again. They all stood still, stiff legged and anxious, until it passed.

Ludo looked back and forth between the sunny yet cold Labyrinth and the dim, stone lined tunnel that stood in front of him. He took a step forward and then paused to beckon to Didymus and Hoggle.

"Rocks sad," he said.

"What d'ya mean, rocks sad?" Hoggle asked.

Ludo beckoned again and then shuffled forward, disappearing down the stairs.

"Wait! Ludo! We will accompany thee!" Didymus called out, heading for the tunnel opening. Hoggle grabbed his arm to hold him back for a moment.

"What d'ya think he means?"

Ludo's mournful voice floated back up through the unlit tunnel. "Show… brothers… rocks…"

"I do not know, brother. I suppose we must follow him." Didymus mounted Ambrosius and urged him into the tunnel. The little fox knight also disappeared down the stairs, leaving Hoggle alone in the cold winter sun.

Hoggle took a deep breath and hesitated a moment. He didn't know what was going on, but he was nervous. Those tremors meant that something was happening, something that could be dangerous underground. He was inclined to stay on the surface, but he couldn't leave Ludo and Didymus, his brothers, to face the danger alone. Hoggle smiled. The thought of the rock caller and the fox knight accepting him as a brother in arms still brought a smile to his face. Glancing around at the bright sunlight once more, Hoggle took a deep breath and plunged into the darkness that yawned in front of him.

"Wait fer me!"

As he descended into the depths of the Labyrinth, Hoggle could hear the patter of Ambrosius' feet on the stairs ahead of him. There was no sign of Ludo, but that was unsurprising. For such a large creature, the rock caller could move with astonishing silence, if not a great deal of speed.

He came to the end of the stairs. Didymus, still mounted on Ambrosius waited for him a little ways down the tunnel. The fox knight was looking around uneasily. There was no sign of Ludo.

"Ludo!" Hoggle called. The echoes of his cry bounced around, returning to mock them in the otherwise silent tunnel.

"Well," Hoggle grumbled. "We'd better go look for him."

Didymus nodded. He urged Ambrosius forward. The tunnel was fairly unremarkable, and standard for this part of the Labyrinth, Hoggle noted. As far as he could tell, there was nothing at all to be afraid of. That didn't stop either of them from turning every so often to check behind them, convinced that something was watching their every move.

After a while, they came upon a fork in the tunnel. Both passages led downward. Hoggle and Didymus looked at each other. There was no way of knowing which tunnel Ludo had taken.

"We must part ways to continue the search," Didymus announced. Although his words were confident, his tone was far from it, and Hoggle immediately shook his head.

"I don't think so." He shuffled his feet nervously as he peered down each of the staircases in turn. "That seems like a bad idea." The silence seemed to press down on them as they strained their ears for any sound of their friend.

"Ludo!" Didymus called out tentatively. Hoggle shuddered and quickly shushed him. The silence seemed to dislike being broken, and the feeling of being watched intensified.

Very faintly they heard Ludo's voice. "Rocks… sad. Brothers… come." His voice seemed to come from the right hand passage.

Didymus and Hoggle hesitated for just a moment before descending. Halfway down the stairs, Hoggle noticed that the edges were crumbly, making the descent more dangerous. He frowned. This should not be. Everything was supposed to have been repaired.

The bottom step was cracked in half and practically disintegrating. The second step was little better, and the stone floor that stretched away from the stairs was riddled with cracks and small stones that had fallen from the walls and ceiling. Hoggle eyed the damage, wondering if it was safe to continue. He knew that this wasn't the bottom layer. There were several more levels below them in this part of the Labyrinth. If the other levels were all like this, it was a good bet that the floor ahead was unstable.

Didymus, still mounted on Ambrosius, charged ahead before Hoggle could say anything. At Hoggle's stuttering cry, Didymus turned back. "It is perfectly safe."

"How could you have known that before you leaped out there?" Hoggle asked.

"Quite simply," Didymus replied. "If our brother managed to pass this way, then the walkway could surely hold out lesser weight."

Hoggle thought about it but couldn't see any reason why Didymus wouldn't be correct. He took a deep breath and released it slowly, his cheeks puffing out while he finished his descent.

They couldn't see much ahead of them in the twisting passage, but there was a shadow moving erratically on the floor. Hoggle looked uneasily at Didymus. "Is that Ludo?"

The fox knight shrugged. "I do not know. It is certainly large enough though."

They moved forward slowly, placing each foot carefully to avoid tripping on the chunks of rock. They turned a corner in the winding tunnel and found themselves surrounded by false alarms. The one closest to them groaned. "Gooooo-" As it spoke, a chunk of its jaw dropped off and clattered to the floor. It fell silent.

Hoggle gaped at the chunk that lay on the floor for a moment before looking around at all of the other false alarms in the tunnel. They were all disintegrating- and quickly. Ears and noses were falling to the floor and dust hung in the air as the faces of the false alarms melted away, almost as though they had been covered in acid. The spreading damage spurred the friends into action, and they moved forward, eager to find Ludo and be away from the scene of horror that surrounded them.

As they moved ahead, another tremor shook the passages, bringing more rocks and dust raining down on them from above. Hoggle glanced nervously at the ceiling, hoping that it would stay in place. The tremor continued, longer than any of the others as Ludo appeared ahead of them, hurrying as much as his bulk allowed.

When the rock caller saw them, he bellowed, "Rocks sad!"

"Quite right, my brother!" Didymus called back. His voice was strained and full of fear as the shaking continued.

"We need ta' leave!" Hoggle yelled. "It's not safe here!"

As Ludo reached them, the shaking stopped. Dust hung in the air as the group stood still, listening to the sound of falling rock in the otherwise still tunnels. After a moment, Hoggle spoke quietly. "His Majesty needs to know about this."

The others nodded and Hoggle closed his eyes. Something about the area made him hesitate to open his mind to the Labyrinth. Finally, he steeled himself and did so. As soon as he did, he was hit by a wave of nausea. The smell of the Bog flooded his nostrils, and he was shocked by the feeling of corruption and hostility that surrounded him. He gasped- gagging- as sweat broke out all over his body. Hoggle fought through it, trying to find the channels of communication that allowed the Guardians to communicate with Jareth no matter where they were in the Labyrinth.

He found what was left of the magical channels, but there was a blockage. Hoggle tried again, and again found his attempts to reach Jareth blocked. Frantically, Hoggle tried over and over, only to be thwarted each time. In the back of his mind, Hoggle could hear a sinister laughter following his every failure. However, he couldn't tell if it was real or imaginary. Terror began to uncurl within him, anchored somewhere deep in his belly and spreading through his body like a vine. He had to get to the King.

Suddenly, there was a roar of falling rock from below. Didymus and Ludo both shouted in horror. Hoggle's eyes snapped open as the floor beneath his feet started to shake.

"Quickly!" Didymus shouted. "We must leave!"

Hoggle jumped forward, just as the stones that he was standing on fell. The group ran, full tilt, toward the stairs. Behind them, they could hear the walls and floors collapsing, dropping into the lower levels with a crash. Another tremor swept through the tunnels as they ran, causing them to stumble. Large chunks of the walls and ceiling fell all around them, threatening to crush them at any moment.

They reached the stairs, now more like a crumbling ramp, and began to climb. In front of them, a section of wall fell with a crash, right across their path, flooding the passageway with rocks and earth. The smell of the Bog continued to intensify.

"We need ta get out of here!" Hoggle yelled urgently. Ambrosius barked wildly at nothing, frenzied in his fear. They scrambled as quickly as they could over the pile of rubble blocking their ascent. Every moment they spent in the area increased the danger of their being buried alive.

"Is the Bog spreading!?" Didymus yelled.

"I don't think so, or those passages would have been flooded!" Hoggle yelled back. The shaking stopped momentarily, and the friends took the opportunity to increase the pace of their flight.

They finally reached the long corridor. Bits of stone littered the floor, and the air was thick with dust. The eerie stillness was a strange counterpart to the occasional crashes they could hear from below as the lower passages continued to collapse. They paused only long enough for Didymus to mount Ambrosius while Hoggle peered cautiously back down what used to be the stairs. His morbid curiosity was rewarded with the sight of a rubble choked hole that slanted away from him, down into the darkness.

Hoggle shuddered at how close they had come to being trapped in the debris and turned away, following Didymus and Ludo, who were already moving again. They moved quickly, hoping to get topside before another quake struck the area.

The stairs that would take them up and out of the Underground passages were in sight when the next tremor hit. Although not as severe as the last, they all paused for a moment nonetheless, trying to reign in their fear and make their legs continue to move.

"Rocks sad!" Ludo wailed before letting out a mournful howl. Around him, the rocks quivered in sympathy with the rock callers fear.

The tremor stopped quickly as Ludo once again fell silent. Hoggle looked at up at him. "Did you do that?"

The large beast shook his shaggy head. "Not Ludo."

"Well, we'd better get goin'. The sooner we get outta here the better," he said gruffly.

He only taken a single step before the floor buckled and then fell away without warning, sending them all plunging down into the lower levels.

* * *

Jareth awakened slowly, unwilling to leave his dreams. Sarah's disappearance had been odd, and it had worried him. He had spent what little remained of the night searching his dreams, calling out for her. Every now and then, he thought he could catch a glimpse of her, but she was elusive, flickering out of view before he could get to her. He reasoned that he just wanted to make sure she was ok, but if he was honest with himself, something he had been avoiding for months, he just wanted to spend more time with her.

As Jareth reluctantly pulled himself out of bed, smiling despite himself, he chuckled. It was ironic how things worked out. He had been told by the Council not to seek for the Airíoch, yet he had been the one to find her in the end, and it had taken no more effort than falling asleep. He dressed and exited his rooms, heading for the family dining hall while replaying the dream over in his mind, grinning unconsciously as he did so. Several goblins and other servants passed him in the hallway and they all stopped in their tracks to stare after their king. It had been years since Jareth had looked like that. Before long the castle was abuzz with gossip. Lady Belinda was due to arrive later that week. Perhaps the king was not as opposed to his betrothal as they had thought.

As for Jareth, he barely registered the surprised looks on the faces of his subjects, and he didn't hear the whispers that spread out around him like ripples in a pond. He finally knew where Sarah was, and he was going to go get her, come what may. Suddenly, he stopped abruptly in the middle of the hallway. A scene from another dream popped into his head, one that he had forgotten until now.

_Amusement drifted through Jareth as he watched Sarah bite her lower lip and twist her hands in her lap. He said nothing, waiting for her to speak. Eventually she did, the words tumbling out of her mouth quickly, her face full of hope and anxiety._

_"Do you know if Toby's ok?"_

_Jareth raised his eyebrows. Although the question was unexpected, it was typically Sarah. Always worrying about her brothers safety without regard from her own wellbeing. The thought that she would eventually make a very good mother drifted through his mind, but he quashed it quickly, turning his attention to her query. In truth he had not thought about the boy in years._

_"I'm sorry, Sarah, I don't. I haven't been called Above for a long time."_

_Sarah shoulders slumped and all of the hope drained out of her seated figure. "Oh."_

_Jareth's heart squeezed in his chest. He hated to see her like that, even in his dreams. "I can check on him, if you want."_

_Sarah brightened, and shot him a smile that made the sun seem dim. Jareth smiled back, his heart skipping a beat as he did so. He would move heaven and earth, and the Underground too, to see her smile like that every day…_

Jareth never had checked on the boy. When he had awakened from that dream, he had dismissed it, assuming it to be just another rebellion of his sleeping mind. He decided to look in on young Toby as soon as he had a moment to do it. He wanted to be able to tell Sarah about Toby's well-being when he saw her. He added a visit Above to his mental list of tasks to perform and continued on his way to the dining hall, fully intending to leave for the centaurs plains before the end of the day.

Because he was late, everyone who had a standing invitation to join him for breakfast was already present when Jareth strode into the dining hall and slipped into his chair at the head of the beautiful mahogany table. A fire crackled merrily in the massive fireplace to his right, throwing light and heat out into the room and Jareth was briefly reminded of the cold. Most of those seated at the table had not waited for him and were well on their way to finishing their meals.

"Ethan," he said, looking down the table at his friend who was holding some papers in one hand while shoveling a bite of eggs into his mouth with the other. His old friend looked up at him questioningly as he chewed and Jareth took that as invitation enough to continue. "I want you to prepare a small, but elite, force to accompany me into the Centaurs Realm."

Ethan swallowed and put down the sheaf of papers that he had been reading with a quizzical expression. "What for? Have you new information? My intel says that the plains are deserted, and the storms have been bad this year. Near whiteout conditions, with massive drifts that shift in the wind..." Ethan paused and cocked his head at Jareth. "It would be very easy to get lost out there. How long do you plan on being gone?"

Jareth shifted in his seat, trying to keep a straight face despite his buoyant mood. "I need to get to the Henge."

"The Henge! No one goes to the Henge without an express invitation from the centaurs. It's their most sacred site!" Ethan sat back, shoving his plate away from him and dropping his fork on top of it.

Diona stirred her cup of tea thoughtfully. "I've heard that your father has sent an official summons to Samoth. Surely whatever you need to discuss with the Elder can wait until he arrives. He will likely stop here on his way to Fialis, probably wishing to use your portals to save time."

Jareth shook his head. "It can't wait, and as much as I would enjoy having the advice of the Elder, I am not going to the Henge to seek his counsel."

"Then why," Ethan asked in exasperation, "do you insist on going right now? What could possibly be so important?"

Jareth took a deep breath, trying to hide his elation and his amusement at their forthcoming reactions. "I know where Sarah is."

Jareth doubted he could have elicited a more shocked and excited response from them all if he had dropped a band of firey's on the dining table and sat back to watch the chaos. Everyone started talking at once. Questions flew, and Diona stood abruptly, her hand at her throat and a look of intense relief on her face.

When the hubbub died down somewhat, Jareth cleared his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, intending to reiterate his request, but Diona spoke first.

"How, Jareth? What has changed since yesterday?" She looked at him shrewdly and Jareth wondered if she already knew, or guessed, how he had come by the information.

A servant set a plate of food down in front of him, followed by a cup of coffee. He dismissed the servant and surveyed the room, ensuring that there were no others present before replying.

"The dreams, Diona. I have been dreaming truly, somehow contacting Sarah in my dreams."

Diona's eyes widened briefly before narrowing thoughtfully as she looked at him. She sank slowly back into her chair, not taking her eyes off of him.

Ethan scoffed, drawing his attention away from Diona. "Dreamwalking? Seriously Jareth? That's nothing more than a myth, old tales of the Ancients. Hardly something that I'd base a decision that could endanger myself and the lives of my men on."

Diona shook her head. "That is not entirely… accurate, Ethan." He looked at her in surprise, and she continued. "Some, albeit very few, of the priestesses used to have the ability. As I recall, it was difficult and drained their energy considerably."

Everyone at the table looked at Jareth. Although he still bore the marks of exhaustion that came from channeling so much power in his efforts to repair the Labyrinth, he looked far too well rested to have had his power drained by dreamwalking. He shrugged. "It isn't something that I've actively tried to do. Perhaps, as I didn't expend any effort in doing so, the dreamwalking hasn't drained me as it did others?"

"Hmmm. I think there is more to it," Diona said. Ethan looked skeptical while Mishal and Naida remained silent, watching avidly.

Jareth merely shrugged again and turned his attention back to Ethan. "I intend to leave by the end of the day, Ethan. Even though this is short notice, I need you to assemble the best we've got. Have them prep for blizzard conditions."

Ethan shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jareth, but you're crazy. This is no time for you to go haring off on your own. You just finished repairs on the Labyrinth and you've got other responsibilities-"

Mishal cut in, so eager to speak that he didn't even realize he cut the General off. "You can't leave right now, Your Majesty!" Jareth looked incredulously from Ethan to Mishal, amazed at the uncharacteristic behavior of his normally shy and reserved secretary. The young man was staring, wide eyed, at his sovereign. His cheeks burned with color, but he seemed determined to speak, despite his anxiety and embarrassment at having to contradict Jareth.

Jareth remained silent, only raising a single eyebrow questioningly. Mishal flushed again but spoke up regardless. "Forgive me, Your-Jareth, but there is simply no way you can leave the Goblin Kingdom for an extended period of time right now. Lady Belinda is expected in the next few days, and, just this morning, we received notice that the High Queen will be making an official visit as well."

"My mother!? What is she coming here for?" Jareth stabbed a fork into his meal savagely. Now that he knew where Sarah was, and had the hope that she might one day return his feelings, he had even less interest in Belinda than he'd had before. Although she was, undoubtedly, the safer choice from a political standpoint. The ramifications of breaking the betrothal, not to mention snubbing her by being absent when she arrived for her first visit to the Goblin Kingdom as his future wife, could have long lasting effects if he did not handle the situation carefully. He cursed himself for getting into this situation. Jareth didn't really care at this point. All he wanted to do was head out for the Henge, and damn the political consequences. However, an official visit from the High Queen would make that very difficult, if not impossible. Jareth stabbed his breakfast again, only to realize that everyone in the room was staring at him, their faces showing their worry about his abrupt change in mood.

"Well?" Jareth glared at Mishal. "Why does my mother choose now to grace me with her presence?"

"She, uhm... that is- the High Queen…" Mishal shuffled through some papers in a satchel slung over the back of his chair. The poor man was practically quivering with the anxiety of his first actual confrontation with the Goblin King. Jareth was still amused despite his rapidly deteriorating mood. Now was when he would find out whether Mishal was actually up to the task that they had set him to. Jareth had thought that Mishal's unusual parentage would mean that he had the strength to stand up to him, and he sincerely hoped that he had been right. If the young man could rise to the occasion here, then he would make a fine secretary.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Jareth focused again on the task at hand. "Well?" he snapped, impatient.

Mishal colored and shot a glance around the table. Both Diona and Ethan gave him sympathetic looks, and Naida smiled encouragingly. The half Ifrit young man squared his shoulders and looked Jareth in the eye. "The High Queen presents her compliments on your completion of the the repairs to the Labyrinth. She sends word that she will be arriving as an official representative to inspect the completed work." Mishal paused and then continued with a small smile. "She also writes that she would like to speak with her son about his betrothal and would like to be present to welcome her future daughter in law to the family when she arrives in the Goblin Kingdom."

Jareth sighed heavily and slouched back in his chair, his meal forgotten. There was no way he could take the time to leave the kingdom for a few weeks to go after Sarah, despite the danger she was in and his desire to see her safe- not if Queen Rhiannon was to be present as an official representative of the Council. Still… "When will my mother arrive?"

"Within the next few days, she didn't give an exact time." Mishal sad with a shrug.

Jareth turned to Ethan. "Forget the escort; I will go alone in owl form. I should be able to reach the Henge in a few days. It will take me longer to travel back, a week at least, since I won't be able to transport Sarah that far. Present my regrets to Belinda and stall my mother for as long as you can-"

Ethan looked grim and he shook his head as Mishal interrupted, overriding Jareth's instructions. "Jareth, you can't do this. You're talking about snubbing the High Queen, not to mention your future wife!"

"I don't care!" Jareth thundered, rising to his feet. "Damn the betrothal, and damn the High Council! I have business on the plains that cannot wait, and I will go. For once, the rest of the Realms will have to bend to my will!" Despite his anger, Jareth was pleased to see that Mishal had stood his ground, unflinching in the face of his king's wrath. In fact, there was an answering flicker of anger deep in the young man's brown eyes. They seemed almost to be glowing slightly red as the fire that his Ifrit father bequeathed to him rose in answer to Jareth's anger.

Diona's voice cut through the rising tension in the room. "Don't be silly, Jareth. You aren't going anywhere, and you know it. If you'd sit still and think for a moment, you'd realise that now is not the time to distance yourself from the Council." Her gaze pierced him as she spoke. "You will need their support, should you decide to break off your betrothal. However, there are much larger issues at stake than your marital status. The threat in the North grows daily, as you well know. For you to leave now puts the Labyrinth at huge risk. Surely you can wait just a little longer?"

Jareth swore, glaring at Diona. "How much longer would you have me wait, old woman? Sarah's life hangs in the balance! She-"

Diona ruthlessly cut him off. She glared at him, much as she used to do when he was small and had been caught getting into trouble. "If she is with the centaurs, then she is with Elder Samoth," she snapped. "You know as well as I do that Samoth is more than capable of handling anything that happens."

Her face softened. "I also wish to charge out and personally bring her back as soon as possible, Jareth. However, the risk is too great. We must trust in Samoth and the centaurs."

Jareth slumped back into his chair, defeated. He propped his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands. "She needs me, Diona," he whispered hoarsely. "I told her I was coming for her. I have to go. I can't… I won't disappoint her again."

The room was silent. Jareth knew that he had all but admitted what they already knew about his feelings for Sarah, but he didn't care. He was done hiding it. All he wanted was to get to Sarah.

"She is coming."

Naida's voice cut through the stillness causing everyone to turn toward the newest Priestess in surprise. Most had forgotten that she was even present. The rusalka was staring straight ahead, not seeing anything in the room. She was clearly in the throes of a vision.

Diona moved swiftly to Naida's side. "Who is coming, dear. What do you see?"

The rusalka struggled to speak. Emotions passed over her face, almost too fast to decipher- relief, pain, tenderness, anger, pain, fear… faster and faster, until it became impossible to identify them. Jareth stood, watching her in awe. He had never seen anyone have visions like this before. No wonder Diona had initiated her immediately. There was no doubt that her power was strong.

Diona reached out and gripped the young rusalka's shoulders. "Naida," she called, shaking her gently. "Naida, you need to come back. Don't let the visions control you; you must control them instead. Come back now. We need to know what you have seen."

Jareth was surprised to see Ethan move to Naida's other side. He reached out and placed a hand on the rusalka's shoulder. With a gasp and a jerk, Niada pulled herself out of her vision, blinking rapidly as she looked around the room. She flushed when she realized that everyone's attention was fixed on her.

"I did it again, didn't I?" she asked Diona. The old Priestess nodded, giving her a warm smile. Naida took a deep breath and looked up at Ethan, who practically towered over her small form, seated as she was in her chair. "Thank you, General. You helped me come back." She gave him a small smile.

"Ethan," he corrected gruffly. "You should call me Ethan."

Naida's smile widened. "Thank you, Ethan."

Jareth shifted nervously, waiting for her to speak. From somewhere outside the room, he vaguely registered a commotion taking place. There was yelling as well as people running about, but he dismissed it. He had to know what the rusalka had just seen.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but it will take me a little while to sort through the visions." Naida smiled tremulously at him, clearly worried that he would be angry. Jareth glared for a moment, irritated at any further delay.

"Jareth." Diona spoke softly, but the warning in her voice was clear. He must not push too hard. He nodded curtly and turned to Ethan with the intention of repeating his earlier orders, regardless of what they all thought about it.

He hadn't even begun to speak before Ethan shook his head. "I won't give the order. I won't aid you in destroying everything you've accomplished since we were children." Jareth's mouth fell open slightly, yet Ethan forged ahead. "The situation in the north is deteriorating. The last report we received from Bhandarth indicates that the orcs are pushing further south each day. With this visit from your mother, and the threat of raids, this is no time for you to abandon the Kingdom. Such an action comes very close to high treason, and I won't have any part of it." He spoke bluntly, anger apparent in the way he held himself, feet apart and arms crossed over his chest. Although it went unsaid, Jareth knew that when Ethan spoke of high treason, he also meant the possibility that Sarah was in league with the forces arrayed against the Realms.

As Jareth drew breath to reply, the sound of running feet could be heard just outside the door. They all turned as the door burst open. Hoggle, Didymus, and Ludo stumbled in, covered in blood, dust, and grime and breathing heavily. A servant trailed behind them.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I couldn't stop them." The hobgoblin man bowed low, trembling.

Jareth glared at the trio but waved the servant away with no comment. As the hobgoblin left, he turned his attention to Sir Didymus, who was the least out of breath of the three, having just dismounted from his shaggy dog.

"What is the matter, Didymus?" Jareth barked. "What could possibly be so important that you would interrupt my breakfast and a meeting of my privy council looking like this?" He raised an eyebrow at their disheveled state.

Ludo, having collapsed against the wall, wailed loudly before Didymus could speak. "Rocks sad!"

"Yes, my brother," Didymus agreed with the rock caller. The fox knight turned to Jareth. "Forgive our unseemly appearance, Your Majesty, but we have urgent news that doth force us into thy presence without delay. If our news were not so dire, my brothers and I would never dream of coming into thy presence in anything less than-"

"Didymus," Hoggle panted, "just get to the point!"

Didymus looked miffed. "But, my brother! His Majesty doth deserve an explanation for our uncouth-"

Once again, Hoggle cut off the fox knight. "The Labyrinth, Jareth," he said, ignoring Didymus' insulted sniff at the interruption and his gasp at the familiar way in which he addressed the king. 'The Labyrinth is collapsing again"

Jareth's heart dropped and he could feel the panic rising in him at the news. "Where?"

"Around the Bog," Hoggle replied.

"Explain," Jareth commanded, hoping that is was just a minor fluke.

So Hoggle recounted their adventure, telling Jareth everything that had happened that morning, including his sense of being watched, and the fact that he had been blocked from contacting the King.

"After the floor collapsed and we dropped down, it was only Ludo's ability ta call the rocks that saved us," Hoggle said with a shudder. "We'd 'a been buried in rubble in the first few seconds, if it hadn't been fer him. Took us a while to get outta the lower levels- what with the tremors and all."

"Our brother Ludo was most valiant," Didymus remarked.

Jareth barely heard him. He slumped into his chair, all thoughts of his half eaten breakfast and even the argument he had been having with Ethan fled from his mind. This couldn't be happening! No sooner had he completed the repairs and found Sarah than the Labyrinth started to fall apart again. Faster than the last time, according to what the three Guardians were reporting. There was no way he could leave the Labyrinth.

He swore sulfuriously under his breath for a moment before turning his attention to the weary Guardians. "Thank you, Hoggle, and you as well Didymus, and Ludo. You should go and see the healer to make sure that none of you sustained any serious injuries. You may go."

As the three friends left the dining hall, silence descended. Everyone knew, but no one wanted to come out and say, that Jareth wouldn't be going anywhere. Jareth sat, feeling paralyzed and incredibly frustrated at this turn of events. Eventually, Diona broke the silence.

"Jareth, you just reported your successful completion of the repairs to the Council; you must fix this."

"I know," he snapped, standing quickly.

"Do you want me to send another report?" Mishal looked uncertain but was already digging through his ever present satchel to find paper and pen.

Jareth considered the question. "No, not yet." There were several shocked gasps.

"You are going to keep this a secret from the Council!?" Ethan narrowed his eyes as he spoke.

"Only for the moment," Jareth replied. "If I can repair it, and keep it that way, then I see no need to change our report."

"Isn't that a bit dangerous? Not reporting this was what got you dragged into a political fiasco the first time." Ethan rose from his seat and approached Jareth. "Perhaps you should be more transparent with the Council this time?"

Diona shook her head. "Jareth is right. Things are very delicately balanced at the moment. With everything that is going on, it is wiser to wait and see if we can fix the problem quickly and quietly before involving the rest of the Realms." She then turned to Jareth, eyeing him sternly. "But, Jareth, if you cannot fix this by the end of the day, you must not allow your pride to get in the way of what needs to be done. This is more than just a threat to the Goblin Kingdom. Whatever is happening here to the Labyrinth must have something to do with the threat in the North and possibly even Sarah's return. The Underground must be united to face down whatever is coming, and the Coí Foinse must be protected at all costs."

Jareth nodded curtly. "I suppose I deserved that," he muttered. Diona smiled gently at him.

"You were always prideful, Jareth. It has gotten you into more trouble than anything else."

He sighed. Despite the seriousness of the situation, his thoughts returned to Sarah. All he wanted to do was go to her, but he couldn't abandon his Kingdom while it fell to ruin. He raked a hand through his hair and then leaned against the table with his hands splayed on the top, staring down at the grain of the wood.

"Jareth…" Naida's gentle voice momentarily cut through his whirling thoughts. He looked dully across the table at her, still leaning with his weight on his hands, but made no reply. He seemed to be looking through her. Jareth's eyes remained unfocused and his expression blank, save for a hint of something that looked almost like despair.

"She's coming," Naida told him.

"You said that before, dear." Diona sat next to the water faerie and patted her shoulder. "Who's coming?"

"Sarah." Everyone froze at the revelation.

"You mean she's returning to the Labyrinth?" Jareth asked eagerly. Hope blossoming in his chest. Perhaps…

Naida nodded, her face slightly troubled. Jareth was too elated to notice. He turned to Ethan. "Since I can't leave, I want you to meet her on the plains," he ordered.

"Jareth-" Ethan started to object, but Jareth cut him off.

"If I can't go, then you will," Jareth stated harshly. He drew himself up and stared at Ethan imperiously. Jareth hated to have to put Ethan in his place like this, but it was necessary, best friend or not. Sarah had to be protected, and there was no one better for the job, save Jareth himself.

After several tense moments, Ethan nodded curtly. "I will take an elite force and begin sweeping the plains by tomorrow morning, Your Majesty."

Jareth winced slightly at the formal address but nodded. "Very good, General. Now, I must go and see this damage that Hoggle reported. He strode toward the door and opened it but stopped just before stepping through it. Turning back, he said, "And Ethan… Sarah is not a prisoner." The intense look in his eye and the chill in his voice told everyone in the room that he would brook no argument on this point. He waited for Ethan's short nod of acknowledgement before he strode from the dining hall, dropping a crystal and vanishing from sight as he walked down the hall.

"Diona," Naida said softly as soon as Jareth was gone. "There is something that I didn't want to tell Jareth." Everyone's attention turned once again to the rusalka.

"What is it?"

"I told him that Sarah is coming, but that isn't everything. She may not make it here."

"What!" Ethan exclaimed, outraged that she had kept that information from Jareth.

A shrewd expression crossed the rusalka's face. "You all seemed to want Jareth to stay here. If I had told him everything, he would not have remained even long enough to allow me to finish speaking, much less wait for Sarah to come to him- no matter what any of us said."

Ethan's outrage cooled as he looked at Naida with more respect. "So what didn't you tell us before?"

"Sarah is dying."

Diona gasped and turned white as a sheet. After a moment, a tear trickled down the old woman's face. "Are you certain?"

Naida nodded, her face clouded with sorrow. "I don't know what happened, but she lost control of all that power. The fevers have begun, and her power has started to flare out of control. The centaurs are split. Half of them want to end her suffering right now, and the other half just want to get her away from the Henge, for the safety of the clans. I saw two futures, and I do not know which will come to pass." She shook her head. "The sight is by no means an accurate predictor of the future," she muttered bitterly.

The silence in the room was deafening and a small sob escaped from Diona. Everyone looked at the usually unflappable old woman in shock. Tears were pouring down her face and she looked more panicked than anyone had ever seen her. She struggled with her emotions, getting them marginally under control before she rose from her seat.

Staring imperiously at Ethan, she said, "Ride hard, General. Straight for the Henge. Do not stop. You must return Sarah to the castle as soon as possible." She paused for a moment, tears still trickling down her face. "The very fate of the Underground could rest on your speed."

* * *

As Jareth stepped into the stone passages surrounding the Bog, the stench rolled over him causing him to swallow hard. Something was very wrong. He could see signs of damage to the walls as well as the stones beneath his feet. He closed his eyes and reached out magically, feeling for his connection to the Great Maze so that he could assess the damage.

As he did so, the ground shook. Jareth's eyes popped open again. He steadied himself and waited for the shaking to stop. When the tremors died away, he took a deep breath, ignoring the stench that drifted through the air and closed his eyes.

The damage was extensive and creeping along under the surface so quickly that he could actually see the rocks disintegrating in his mind's eye as he magically surveyed the damage. Although a part of him recoiled in shock and horror, he set those feelings aside. Reaching out, he called for the Labyrinth, trying to get it to speak with him as it had before.

_Please! I need your help! Something is very wrong; can't you feel it?_

Although there was a stirring of interest from the Labyrinth, the Great Maze remained quiescent. Jareth tried again.

_Why is this happening again? What is causing this?_

Again, the Labyrinth stirred but did not answer him. For a moment, it had seemed as though it were ignoring him- it's attention fixed on something else. Jareth lost his temper.

_I am the KING, and I demand that you answer me!_  He screamed silently at the vast sleeping awareness of the Labyrinth. At that, Jareth suddenly found himself standing on a stone floor, surrounding by darkness. He whirled around, looking for something to explain where he was and how he got there, but there was nothing to see. All around him, out in the darkness beyond his vision, he could hear whisperings and mutterings. Shadows flitted on the edge of his vision, but when he whipped around to look, there was nothing there.

_Goblin King_ , a voice whispered from behind him. Jareth turned quickly, his cloak swirling in the mist that crawled across the floor. Without thinking about what he was doing, he conjured a sphere of magic and held it tightly, ready to defend himself at need.

A wispy figure stood not far from him. It was impossible to make out any features. It seemed to shimmer like heat waves while fading in and out of his vision at the same time. Jareth blinked, hoping to bring the entity further into focus, but it did nothing to help.

_Be at peace, Goblin King. You have nothing to fear in this place_ _._ The magic that Jareth held in his hand dissipated and he looked down in surprise.

The figure, or many figures, chuckled at his surprise. Jareth looked around but could see no one else.

"Who are you?" He demanded, speaking aloud.

_There is no need to waste your breath, Goblin King. We hear your thoughts._

_Then who are you?_  Jareth asked mentally.

_We are the many,_  one voice said.

_Which make up the whole_ , whispered another.

Jareth frowned, and the figure in front of him solidified slightly. It was still impossible to make out any features, but it did not fade in and out as much.

_We are sorry..._

_that we cannot…_

_greet you properly…_

_Goblin King._

Each phrase was whispered by a different voice, but Jareth had the impression that there were many more voices that were not part of the conversation at all. He could sense many that ignored him, their attention definitely fixed elsewhere.

_Why do you disturb our watch and our slumber, Goblin King?_ This time it was only a single voice, the one that had first greeted him and that he assumed belonged to the half visible entity in front of him.

Suddenly, it clicked, and Jareth knew what he was speaking to. "The Labyrinth," he said in wonder, speaking aloud again. "You are the Labyrinth."

_Yes._

As though addressing it by that name drew its attention, the chorus of voices returned, stronger than before but still only a fraction of those he could sense around him. Behind those who spoke, Jareth could still sense many, many others that paid no heed to him. Despite the severity of the crisis he was facing, Jareth was fascinated. There were so many questions he wanted to ask about the nature of the Labyrinth and why it had been created.

_Speak quickly Goblin King; we cannot maintain this level of contact for long. We are too fractured to do so, and our attention is needed elsewhere._ The single voice of the figure in front of him spoke in his mind again.

_The Labyrinth is under attack again_. Jareth said in his mind.  _This time the deterioration moves quickly. What is causing it? Why is it happening?_

There was silence for a few moments, during which the figure in front of him faded almost to nothing before rematerializing.  _We are distracted_ , the figure said.  _Pulled in too many directions. For many years now, our attention has been divided, and we have not been able to focus our full power. Now, the seal degrades._

_What seal?_  Jareth asked the entity.

It shook its head, causing it to blur badly.  _You must repair the damage without us, Goblin King. For now, we are unable to help you. There is another, more pressing, crisis that we must attend to._

"What could be more pressing than this?" Jareth yelled.

The figure disappeared without responding and the darkness began to close in around him. "Wait! No! You have to help me!" he raged.

_You must endure..._

_alone..._

_But only..._

_For a little while..._

_Longer..._

The scene around him faded Jareth opened his eyes to find himself back at the edge of the Bog. He clenched his fists and struck the wall next to him in frustration and anger. Why wouldn't the Labyrinth help him!? He screamed in rage, striking the wall again, tearing his glove and his skin. Pain shot through his hand and he hissed, pulling off his glove to examine the damage. As he did so, Jareth swore that he could hear a sinister laughter in his mind. This brought him up short and he got his anger under control again. Closing his eyes, he reached out and began channeling the free magic of the Underground into the damaged Labyrinth...

The sun had set by the time that he had fought back the damage enough to return the Labyrinth to its proper state. He set magical barriers around the area, trying to keep the creeping corruption at bay, but he didn't know how long they would last. Even now, with the barriers in place, Jareth could sense whatever power that was causing the damage to the Maze lurking on the edges, testing the strength of his magical blockades.

Jareth dropped out of his trance and immediately fell to the stone path. His body steamed and his throat was parched. His lips cracked and bled from the intensity of the magic that had been flowing through him for the better part of the day. He tried to rise, but once again fell, his overheated flesh scraped and bruised. In some places, his skin had split open where it had hit the ground. His clothing had long since been incinerated in the heat of the magic. He groaned. With agonizing slowness, he conjured a crystal and dropped it on the ground, transporting himself back to the Castle Beyond the Goblin City. He landed in a heap on the floor of the medical wing.

Within moments, the Goblin King was being administered to by every medical staff member available, yet he hardly noticed. His attention was still fixed on the Labyrinth. As soon as he left, his magical fences were attacked. Even now he could feel them wavering under the onslaught of whatever entity was seeking the destruction of the Labyrinth. As his many hurts were tended to and his privy council was summoned, Jareth reflected on what the Labyrinth had told him. He would have to hold on, alone, for just a little while longer. Slowly, Jareth began to chuckle before he started to laugh hysterically. If today were any indication, then they only had a little while longer before there was nothing of the Labyrinth left standing. It would take all of his strength to keep the Great Maze intact.

* * *

Toby trudged up the front walk of his house, head down and feet dragging. He had no eye for the spring beauty that blossomed all around him, nor did he care about the sweet smell of the breeze that blew gently through the tall trees around him, wafting the scent of flowers and freshly cut grass around the neighborhood. Nothing mattered anymore, not since Sarah was gone.

He quietly let himself into the house, careful to make no sound that might disturb his mother. The house was quiet and dark, despite the bright sunlight outside. Every curtain was drawn, for Karen said the light hurt her eyes and made her head ache. He dropped his backpack on the floor and winced at the dull thud it made.

"Toby!" Karen screeched from somewhere deeper in the house.

Toby sighed and scrunched his shoulders slightly before replying. "Hi, Mom!"

Toby heard the sound of her slippers scuffing on the floor as she approached. He eyed the backpack that he had dumped on the floor. Inside was yet another request for a parent-teacher conference. The other three that he had brought home lay on the small table by the door, placed there and then forgotten by Karen, despite Toby's reminders. He wasn't sure that he would even bother to give her this one.

Karen appeared in the doorway to the living room, glaring at him, drink in hand. He tried not to cringe when he saw her. Things had not been going well since his father's funeral. Although Karen had gotten dressed for the day, it was probably only because she needed to make a run to the liquor store, and hopefully the grocery store as well. Her hair was a mess, her formerly perfect makeup and manicure nonexistent. By now, Toby was familiar with the signs that it was not going to be a good night. Karen swayed slightly, raising her glass to take a swig of the contents.

"The damn school called again," she said, glaring at Toby like it was his fault. Toby just shrugged. There was nothing he could do about it.

"What do they want?" she snapped at him.

"It's just a parent-teacher conference, Mom. Everyone had them." He picked up the stack of forgotten forms and tried to hand them to her, but she waved him away irritably.

"I don't have time for that nonsense." She turned abruptly and left him standing alone in the entryway, calling back over her shoulder as she went. "Do your homework! Then, you can have a snack."

With a sigh, Toby put the stack of notices back on the table. Digging around in his backpack, he pulled out the newest one and added it to the growing pile.

Toby quickly finished what little homework he had and then went to his room. He slumped down into his beanbag chair and scratched his head vigorously. His scalp itched. He knew he didn't have lice, because the school nurse had already done a head check twice, but it was probably time to dunk his head in some water again. He had discovered that going too long without cleaning his hair brought unwanted attention at school.

He had also learned to be very careful about not getting his clothing too dirty, because getting Karen to do his laundry was difficult. It was better if he tossed his things directly into the washer and tried to catch her on a good day so she would actually put soap in the machine and run it. Inevitably, she forgot to take the clothing out; therefore, Toby had taken to pulling his clothing out himself and hanging it wherever he could so it would air dry. He wasn't very good at it, resulting in him looking rather rumpled most of the time. The one time he had tried to use the dryer, he had managed to shrink several shirts and a pair of jeans. Since he didn't know when he would get new clothes, he never tried that again. Luckily, he had been able to dispose of the shrunken items without Karen being the wiser. Everything made her yell nowadays.

Toby pushed himself awkwardly out of the bean bag and wandered across the hall into Sarah's room. It was almost completely bare. His mom had gone through the room right after the funeral, tossing everything of Sarah's into boxes that she then put in the garage until trash day. Before they had gone to the curb, Toby had managed to sneak a few of Sarah's most treasured possessions out of the boxes and into the darkest corner of the attic. Pictures of her mother and of her dad, her music box with the girl in the fluffy dress, Lancelot, the little figurine that looked suspiciously like the Magic Man he remembered- all were tucked away in the safest place he could find, waiting for the day that Sarah returned. A lump formed in his throat when he thought about his sister. He hoped she was okay, and he missed her so much. Tears trickled down his face as he fought to keep his sobs inside. If Karen heard, she was bound to come up to see what was going on. If she found him in Sarah's room, she was sure to yell.

Toby quickly left Sarah's room, making his way back to his own before throwing himself on the bed and sobbing into his pillow. He wished, so fervently, that he could be with Sarah, in that magical place that he could just barely remember. Eventually, the tears stopped. Tired from his emotional outburst, Toby fell asleep, traces of tears still on his cheeks.

The sky had turned dark when he opened his eyes again. Turning over, Toby looked at the clock. The digital readout said ten o'clock. At the sight of the red numbers, Toby's stomach growled. It was well past dinner time. Sliding off the bed he went over to his door and opened it a crack, listening for any sound to indicate where his mother was. Dimly, he could hear the sound of the TV downstairs, but the lack of lights on anywhere in the house made it obvious to him that his mother had passed out in front of the television again.

Toby tiptoed down the stairs, stopping to peak through the banister in case Karen was actually awake. She wasn't. With a sigh that was half sad and half relieved, Toby walked down the rest of the stairs normally. Once his mother passed out, nothing was likely to wake her up. The coffee table in front of her was littered with empty booze bottles. Close to the edge sat the reason for her deep slumber. A bottle of sleeping pills that she had gotten her doctor to prescribe after the funeral.

Toby entered the kitchen, flipping the lights on and wincing at the brightness of the fluorescent bulbs as they flickered to life with a low hum. Toby wandered over to the fridge and tugged it open, hoping that Karen had made it to the grocery store as well as the liquor store today. The fridge was nearly empty.

"Aw, man." Toby groaned. He closed the fridge and headed for the pantry. He was rummaging about for something that he could actually make by himself when a voice spoke.

"Late night snack?" The voice startled him so much he let out a yelp and dropped the box of crackers he had been holding. Spinning around, Toby found the Magic Man leaning wearily against the doorframe, blocking his exit from the pantry.

Toby's mouth popped open for a moment. 'You're him, aren't you?"

The man laughed. "Yes, Tobias, I'm the Goblin King. I'm surprised you remember me."

Toby's eyes grew even wider as he recognized the name from the story that Sarah had told him, over and over, when he was younger. He grabbed the box of crackers from the floor and approached the Goblin King, warily. "Have you brought my sister back?"

The Goblin King winced slightly and shook his head, his light, feathery hair swinging around his face as he did so. "I'm afraid not, Tobias. She is not with me."

Toby sighed and began to move toward the door. The Goblin King moved out of his way, allowing Toby to sit at the table before dropping down on the chair across from him as though he were completely exhausted.

Toby cocked his head to the side, examining the weary man across the table from him. He could easily see that he wasn't entirely human, and that he was very tired. "So, if Sarah isn't with you, then can you take me to her, uh, Your Majesty?"

The man chuckled slightly. "Just call me Jareth, Tobias. Your sister certainly never uses my title unless she is angry with me."

"Okay," Toby said. "Then can you take me to see Sarah?" He opened the box of crackers and pulled out a sealed sleeve.

"I'm sorry but I can't."

"Please, Jareth! I- I really need my sister." Toby struggled with the packaging on the crackers. He was about to get up for a pair of scissors when Jareth's gloved hands plucked the package out of Toby's smaller ones. Toby smiled as the Goblin King carefully opened the package before returning it.

"I cannot take you Underground with me, Tobias. No matter how many times you ask." Jareth glanced around the room with distaste. Crumbs were scattered on the floor, the dirty dishes were piled high in and around the sink, and there were bottles of alcohol- some half full but most empty, scattered on every available surface. "No matter how much I might wish to do so," Jareth muttered, almost to himself.

Toby flushed and squirmed in his seat. He really should have done the dishes. He knew how; he just didn't like to do it. Jareth continued, speaking normally again, "You have not been wished away, and there are rules about bringing mortals Underground."

"But, you took my sister!" Toby crammed several crackers into his mouth. Getting up, he climbed the small step ladder he had brought into the kitchen and opened a cabinet, rummaging around for a cup. When he finally found one that looked moderately clean, he filled it at the dispenser in the fridge.

"Sarah was wished away, Tobias. By the laws of the Underground, I had to take her."

Toby gulped his water, washing down the dry crackers. "Then why are you here?"

"Because Sarah asked me to check on you." Jareth slumped even further into the seat. Toby noticed that the Goblin King was dressed far more simply than he had ever seen him. There was no glitter and no sparkle to his clothing at all, and he wore none of the fanciful makeup that Toby remembered. After a moment, Jareth rose slowly, as though he were a very old man whose joints hurt. "Still, I cannot leave you here like... this."

Toby waited, hardly breathing for Jareth to continue, but he didn't. Instead, the Goblin King flicked his wrist, producing a crystal. He spoke into it. "Hoggle, bring Didymus and Ludo. I have need of you." With another flick of the wrist, Jareth made the crystal disappear.

"Cool!" Toby exclaimed. "I wish I could do that."

Jareth smiled softly at him. "Be careful of your wishes, Tobias; they have power in the presence of the Fae."

Toby's eyes grew wide and he nodded. Sarah had once made a thoughtless wish, and it had landed them all in their current troubles.

A few moments later, three creatures appeared in his kitchen, and Toby had to work very hard not to scream at the sight of them. He backed away slowly, eyeing the largest of the group, waiting for it to pounce.

"Don't be frightened, Tobias," Jareth said, stepping toward him. As he did so, one of his legs gave out, and the three creatures rushed to help him.

"Told ya that it was too soon," the one who looked like a misshapen dwarf with a large head muttered at Jareth.

"Silence," Jareth snapped, regaining his footing and leaning against the counter to keep his balance. "I made a promise to Sarah and this one, at least, I will keep."

Jareth gestured to the three creatures. "Tobias, these are Sarah's friends. The large one is Ludo." As Toby eyed the creature doubtfully, Jareth chuckled. "Do not worry. He is quite gentle. He is a rock caller."

The one called Ludo waved his enormous hand at him but otherwise remained still. Jareth pointed to the smallest of the group. "This is Sir Didymus, Sarah's very own knight." Didymus bowed deeply.

"I am honored to make the acquaintance of My Lady Sarah's brother." Toby giggled at the little fox knights formality.

"And this is Hogmeadow," Jareth said, waving his hand dismissively at the last of the three.

"It's Hoggle!" The little man scowled at Jareth before turning to Toby. "I'm happy ta meet ya at last," Hoggle told him. "Sarah's told me all about ya."

"Really?"

Hoggle nodded. "Oh yes. She an' I are great friends."

"Hoggle, Didymus, and Ludo are here to look after you, Tobias." Jareth looked seriously at him. "You must not let anyone know, or-"

Toby cut him off. "I know. If I tell anyone, they'll think I'm crazy, like Sarah."

Jareth nodded sadly. "I must leave Tobias, but they will look after you for now." He flicked his wrist, looking pained as he summoned another crystal.

"Wait! Jareth!"

The Goblin King paused. "Yes, Tobias?"

"Tell Sarah-" He took a deep breath, trying not to cry. "Tell Sarah I miss her."

Jareth nodded once and then dropped the crystal on the ground, disappearing from the kitchen and leaving Toby alone with the three Underground creatures.

"So, Toby… what do you like to eat?" Hoggle asked, rolling up his sleeves.

* * *

Gethin stepped into the minor lordling's forest manor, pushing back his deep hood and looking around with a sniff. It was adequate, if only barely. The human servant who let him in beckoned silently for him to follow her, her eyes never leaving the floor as she did so. He glanced appreciatively at her as she preceded him into the deeper recesses of the manor. This one was well trained.

_Ah well, I suppose that makes up for the less than opulent surroundings to some degree_ , he thought.  _One must put up with all sorts of inconveniences if one hopes to restore the natural order of the universe, after all_ _._

The servant led him to courtyard, enclosed on three sides by the walls of the house. The fourth side faced out over a small cliff in the the forested hillside. Several trees grew in the large open area, screening the courtyard from the view of anyone who would be standing on the far hill. It was as private a place as you could hope to find, and that was exactly why Gethin had cultivated and then recruited the young lording. Of course, there was always the added bonus of making him the easy target, should their little power play ever be uncovered.

There were several figures already gathered, seated on stone benches placed around the perimeter of the long, rectangular depression in the center of the courtyard. A large bonfire burned in a pit that ran the length of the rectangle. It served as a source of both light and heat for the meeting that was about to take place.

Rather than mingle with the others, Gethin took his rightful place on the end of the rectangle that was closest to the house. There, at the top of the steps that led down into the courtyard from the house, a large ornate chair had been placed. It was to this seat of honor that Gethin strode, his cloak swirling around him. Although the seat was cold, far from the fire as it was, Gethin would not have it moved lower. He, and he alone, was master here.

Not long after Gethin arrived, all of the cohorts were present and waiting on benches around the fire for Gethin to open the meeting.

Gethin stood. "Hail the Lord of Shadows!"

"Hail the Lord of Shadows," echoed those assembled in the courtyard.

"Welcome, my friends." Gethin spread his hands out in welcoming gesture. There were indistinct murmurs from the muffled and hooded people closer to the fire. Gethin suppressed a shiver and resolved to order that some braziers be set up on either side of his seat the next time they met.

"Why have we been summoned to meet?" Someone from the far end of the courtyard called out. "It is dangerous for us all to be in one place." That comment resulted in even more murmurings and stirrings throughout those gathered.

Gethin hushed the crowd with his hands, holding them out in a placating gesture. "There are things we must discuss that I dare not trust to messengers," he told them. When there was once more no sound save for the crackling of the fire, Gethin continued. "Our agent is on her way to the Castle Beyond the Goblin City as we speak. She will take every opportunity to get herself with child as quickly as possible. I have ensured that she will not leave Jareth's side until she has accomplished this task."

His words were greeted with nods and sounds of approval. Again, someone from the back called out. "What about the rumors?"

"What rumors?" Gethin asked, feigning ignorance.

"The girl! The Champion of the Labyrinth. They say that the Crown Prince is in love with her."

"So?" Gethin retorted. "I see no problem. As I said, our choice for the mother of the heir will be with him by the end of the week. As long as he adheres to the betrothal agreement and marries when and where the Council has decreed, it doesn't matter where his heart lies. Our agent knows her place well and will ensure that Jareth does not stray until she has birthed his son. After that, it doesn't matter who he beds; we will have what we need."

This was greeted with a roar of approval and excitement. Several minutes passed before everything was once again calm.

"I would still be interested to know if anyone has come across information about where this, Sarah…" Gethin still couldn't say her name without a grimace of distaste. "About where she has been hiding."

Everyone shifted around from foot to foot, but there were no answers. Gethin clenched his fists. Below him were some of the most powerful men in the Underground, save for the ruling kings, and they still couldn't locate one stupid, mortal girl!? He shook his head in disgust. The only saving grace was that those same rumors claimed that even Jareth didn't know where she was.

Deciding that it would be best to change the subject, Gethin asked, "How do we fare in our recruitment efforts?"

There was more muttering and shuffling. Gethin was getting tired of their inability to be forthcoming.

Eventually, someone stepped out of the crowd. "Not well, Gethin." Gethin recognized the man as being a high ranking advisor in the Wood Elven Kingdom. "Recruitment has slowed. Those who we might otherwise recruit from the upper classes speak of the Empty One who has risen in the north. Those who are unaware of our existence brush off any advances in favor of talk of war. Those who know of our efforts begin to wonder who they should follow. The Collective is no longer the only option for those who wish for a return to the old ways."

Gethin nodded. Before he could speak someone asked, "Who is he? Do we know?"

"Maybe he does speak for the Dark One!"

"Should we attempt to contact him?"

Once again, the meeting broke down as separate conversations could be heard all over the courtyard. Gethin stood and yelled, attempting to regain control. Although some went quiet, others ignored him.

'Silence!" he roared, glaring angrily around.

When silence once again fell, Gethin took a deep breath. Although he suspected that his apparent rival in the north was none other than Prince Mathyn, it would do him no good to reveal this- not if he hoped to maintain control over the Collective. Mathyn's royal lineage was a constant worry for Gethin. "There is no use speculating. I highly doubt he is a legitimate threat, whoever he is."

Someone began to laugh. Everyone looked around in confusion, trying to pinpoint the location of the individual. Eventually, all eyes turned to the shadows under the trees on the far side of the courtyard from Gethin. Two shadows detached themselves from the darkness under the evergreen trees and stepped forward as the laughter died.

"Not a threat, Lord Gethin?"

"Who are you?" Gethin barked. "You are not welcome here!"

The glow of magic appeared in the hands of the shadowy man. Those with magical ability shrank back in fear. That was free magic. It pulsed with a sickly glow, black and red, before forming a crystal that illuminated the face of the man who wielded it.

"Mathyn," Gethin gasped.

The one-time prince strode forward, the crowd parting for him as he did. The hooded figure at his side followed closely. "Is this all you can muster to compete with me, Gethin?" Mathyn spoke as he approached the house and the raised chair that Gethin had been occupying. "My army is vast, and it is poised to wash over the Realms like a tidal wave. Yet here you sit, hatching plots, stirring intrigue, and playing at politics."

"How did you find this meeting?" Gethin demanded.

Mathyn reached the foot of the stairs and paused. Then he gestured to his companion, who removed her cloak. There were gasps from the crowd around them.

A darkly beautiful succubus stood next to Mathyn. She smiled seductively around as several of those present looked away, unable to meet her eyes as they realized that they had been visited by her. Mathyn grinned up at him. "The daughters of Lilith are resourceful. And they are excellent at gathering information." Having said this, Mathyn started up the stairs.

Gethin stood his ground. "We seek to fulfill the prophecy… to return the Dark One to his rightful place as ruler of all worlds. You merely seek to gratify your ego by taking whatever you want by force."

Mathyn reached the top of the steps and the two men faced off. Gethin knew that Mathyn could have simply killed him without even revealing his presence. The fact that he was still alive meant that the Fae had a plan that involved him and his people. He needed to know what it was. Nothing could get in the way of their plan.

"I am the rightful ruler of the Underground, and as such, I demand your allegiance... and that of every man here." Mathyn shouted. "I AM the Empty One!"

Mathyn turned back toward Gethin, his face twisted in a sneer. "You are no more than a pale imitation of me."

Gethin swallowed hard but scowled fiercely at Mathyn. "Then why am I still alive?"

Mathyn chuckled with an evil grin. "Because I think that you might be useful. I intend to take what is mine- the Labyrinth, the High Throne, and the girl, Sarah."

Gethin raised his eyebrows but crossed his arms over his chest. The entire courtyard was silent. The popping of the fire seemed unnaturally loud. "Why should we pledge our loyalty to you? You have nothing we want."

Mathyn grinned wolfishly. "I have the ability to keep everyone so distracted that even if they suspect you exist, they will have no time to hunt you down. On the other hand, I can also ensure that your plot is uncovered, and you are all arrested and executed as traitors within the week." He paused, and Gethin held his breath, realizing that Mathyn would not have revealed himself if he wasn't capable of doing as he said. After a moment, Mathyn continued, staring straight at Gethin. "However, I am willing to propose something much more mutually beneficial. You provide me with intel and help from within the Realms. In return, I will keep everyone ignorant of your existence and your activities."

He gestured to those assembled. "Pledge your loyalty to me as your High King," He urged glancing shrewdly at Gethin. "In the end, we all want the same thing."

Gethin stared impassively at Mathyn while his mind worked feverishly. If Mathyn intended to take Sarah as his bride, then that would get her out of the way of their plans for Jareth and his heir. As he thought about Mathyn's offer, he caught sight of Valegil pushing his way forward through the crowd that now pressed toward the steps. Shaking himself free of the press of bodies, Valegil stepped onto the bottom step to speak.

Valegil was what people generally referred to as a necromancer. A practitioner of the Dark Arts, he was one of the chief users of Magic in service to the Dark One. Gethin hoped that he would have some insight that would be useful in this situation. Instead, the old magician unexpectedly voiced his support for the disgraced royal.

"Gethin, the prince speaks the truth. He is the Empty One! The hand of the Master is upon him. Can you not sense it in the magic he wields?

Gethin growled under his breath. He hadn't wanted to open himself up enough to take a reading on the prince. However, if the necromancer said it was true, then he did not doubt it. The old man might be opportunistic and twisted, performing magic that others would shrink from even thinking about, but Gethin had never known him to be wrong. Still, Gethin hesitated for a moment longer before stepping aside. He moved down several steps, positioning himself lower than Mathyn but still higher than everyone else present.

He bowed low before Mathyn. "We are at your disposal... Your Majesty."

The rest of the gathering followed suit, one by one, while Mathyn settled himself in Gethin's vacated chair. The succubus took her place just behind him, watching the crowd take an oath of loyalty with hooded eyes.

Although he kept his face neutral, Gethin's mind was very active. He would allow Mathyn to take over the Collective for now. They still had Belinda, who was even now on her way to Jareth. She would conceive a male heir by him, and Gethin would use his grandson to gain more power than Mathyn could even dream of having. Perhaps, it would be a good thing to keep Mathyn close. It was, after all, better to keep a mad dog leashed.


	25. Mercy and Hope

**Disclaimer -**  I've got it all figured out... If I can catch a leprechaun, I'll force him to give me his pot of gold, and then use it to buy the rights to the Labyrinth! Sounds like a workable plan, right? Right!? What do you mean it won't work!?

A/N - My thanks to my beta, ladyofshallot19 for her editing skills! We just had an interesting conversation about this story. Check out the authors note after this chapter to hear about it!

**Warning**  - Mental and physical torture ahead. As well as some violence.

* * *

Samoth rubbed the back of his neck and stamped the ground with his hoof in frustration. He had been listening to the arguing of the various clan heads for hours now, and they were no closer to agreeing on a course of action than they had been when they started. He glanced up at the winter sky, absently noting the few high clouds racing across the pale blue expanse. The clear weather would probably hold for a few more days. At least the mid-afternoon sun was warm, even if the air was still chilly.

One of the best healers in the clans spoke up, cutting through the chaotic babble and snapping Samoth's attention away from his contemplation of the sky above the Henge. "She is critically ill. The weight and strain of containing all of that power in a mortar shell are beginning to weaken her. The Elder said that she began to decline after receiving a severe shock. There's really no cure for this, and in her current condition, we can't even counsel her through the situation." The centaur woman shook her head sadly. "There is little we can do for her, even here at the Henge."

Clan leader Rogan stepped forward to speak, his glossy black coat and hair shining. "If there is nothing we can do for her, then I do not see the point in prolonging her suffering and increasing the danger to us all. Let us do the merciful thing. Kill her now, before her suffering ends us all in a magical explosion!"

There were cries of distress from all around the circle at his cold and calculating assessment of the situation. Despite the outcry, there were also murmurs and nods of assent. Samoth's stomach clenched. The Elder understood the fear that was driving them to agree with the suggestion of a mercy killing, but he had hoped that his people were stronger. He wondered if he would be agreeing with them himself if it wasn't Sarah's life on the line. If it were just some other mortal girl, would he also advocate for a compassionate knife thrust through the heart? Samoth wanted to think better of himself, but he honestly wasn't sure.

He shook his head and pushed his musings aside. He could debate his own relative morality later. It didn't matter what he would do in another situation. Right now, he needed to deal with this crisis. The fact was- Sarah was in danger. At the moment, the Clans didn't see that. All they could see was the threat to themselves. Samoth needed them to understand how important Sarah was! He was about to speak up when Adelina stepped forward.

"How can you say such a thing!" The red headed centaur woman glared at Rogan and those who agreed with him.

"When one of the herd is suffering a broken leg, you do not coddle it, splinting the leg and halting the rest of the herd to hope that the leg of the one animal heals," Rogan replied. "Such cruelty prolongs the suffering of the injured animal. The best thing to do, and what you would do yourself, is to end the animal's suffering with compassion."

Adelina and her supporters looked outraged. Rogan ignored them and continued, "Sarah will undoubtedly suffer greatly before the end. Should we not show her the same compassion that we would show our herd animals?"

"This is not the same thing!" Several of the younger centaurs yelled, offended at the comparison between their friend and the herd animals that grazed placidly on the outskirts of the camp.

Adelina nodded. "We have accepted Sarah as one of us by welcoming her here in the Henge and supporting the Elder's adoption of her into his household. Sarah is, for all intents and purposes, a member of Samoth's clan. To kill her now would be a stain upon our honor that will last for generations!"

"Better to live to and have our honor dirtied than to die a horrible death when the magic inevitably rips it's way out her!" Rogan retorted. "How long do you really think this mortal girl can contain the vast amount of power that the shamans and healers sense within her? She is already weakening. For her own good, and for the good of the clans, we must put an end to her!"

Another of the healers stepped forward. "Adelina, we understand that you are close to her and that she is loved by many here, but the magic is literally eating away at her. It's ripping through her body, seeking a means of escape now that she can no longer control it." The healer shot a dirty look at Rogan. "Despite the clan leaders tactless delivery, he may have a point. Isn't a quick and merciful death better than the agony of lingering on while the magic devours her from the inside out?"

Adelina looked down at the ground, tears standing unshed in her eyes. She clenched her hands around the staff that she was holding. "I do not want her to suffer, but killing her can't be the answer."

Deciding that enough was enough, Samoth stepped forward. Silence fell as he walked into the center of the Henge. "Although I mourn what has befallen my beloved granddaughter, I am not speaking as a member of her family now. What I say now, I say as the First Elder and Chief Shaman of all centaurs," he announced loudly, making it clear that he was separating himself from his attachment to his adoptive granddaughter. His voice carried to all who were gathered there, and the authority in it could not be mistaken.

He gestured toward the healers who stood in a group at the edge of the Henge. "For the moment, we have managed to contain and control the magic that is threatening to kill Sarah."

"But she is still in danger of flaring out of control at any moment!" Someone yelled from the crowd. A low rumble swept through the crowd as many expressed their agreement.

Samoth nodded slowly. "Yes, that is true. There is a risk to everyone around her. However, we live in risky times. It is possible that a great storm will descend upon us tomorrow and the winds will carry us up into the sky, shredding our flesh with debris as it does so. But, we do not kill to prevent things that are out of our control." He looked around the circle, his eyes falling on Rogan and others who had been the most vocal in insisting that Sara be killed to prevent a disaster. "For the moment, we can control the magic within her through incantations and sedatives, but that is not a permanent solution. Sarah grows weaker daily, and you are right when you say that her mortal form will not be able to contain such power forever."

'Then what do we do?" Adelina called out.

Samoth sighed. "This is a difficult situation. We do not simply debate the life and death of one young woman! Sarah has been chosen by the Fates for a destiny that could be the difference between the destruction of Underground and its salvation." He paused and let the centaurs digest that information for a moment before he continued. "Sarah is important. Her death could mean the end of any ability we have to fight off the darkness that is struggling to rise again. Alive, she can be used to hasten the rise of that darkness, but she is also a beacon of hope and a source of strength for those with the will to fight against the evil that threatens us all."

"Faugh, you speak in riddles, old man." Rogan strode forward. "How can we be expected to make any sort of decision based on this gibberish? If you don't have a clear vision to offer us, then I say that we need to do what is best for the clans."

Samoth glared at Roan coldly for a moment. The clan chief did not back down. "Rogan," Samoth said threateningly. 'Do you challenge my authority?"

"In this matter… yes." There were shocked gasps and cries from all around the Henge. No one in living memory had ever challenged the authority of the Elder. Rogan continued, "I say that your love for the mortal girl blinds you to the danger and clouds your visions. She is but one mortal woman. What difference can she possibly make?"

"Kill her, and you will never know," Samoth retorted. "In fact, doing so may condemn the rest of us to a death even more horrifying than that which Sarah currently faces." Rogan scoffed at his statement and crossed his arms belligerently.

Samoth ignored the clan leader's attitude and turned to the healers again. "Can Sarah travel?"

They looked at each other, trading shrugs and skeptical glances before the head healer stepped forward again, swishing her braided tail anxiously. "She probably shouldn't be moved. The more we disturb her, the more frequently we will have to dose her with sedatives and reinforce the incantation that is keeping her alive. But, if it is her only hope, then she can travel in a closed wagon."

Samoth nodded and then said, "I propose that we take Sarah to the Castle Beyond the Goblin City. There, and only there, does she have any hope of surviving this illness."

Rogan rolled his eyes. "Who would be willing to undertake such a dangerous journey, and at this time of year?"

He meant his question to be a rhetorical one, but the reply that he got was shocking.

"We will!" All of the younger warriors in the clans raised their fists and shouted, as did a good portion of the rest of the Clans. Even Samoth was shocked. He had not expected that Sarah had made such an impact on the lives of the centaurs. It seemed that she was already an inspiration to those who knew her. Samoth wished that she could have been awake to see this moment. It would have been good for her to see the support she had already garnered, just by being herself.

Rogan stepped closer to Samoth and raise his voice. "If this is the will of the Clans, then I will see it done! He raised his fast in salute to Samoth and then bowed his head, leaning closer to the Elder. "But, if there is any hint that she is becoming more of a danger than she already is, I will not hesitate to end her life," he said in an undertone.

The two centaurs glared at each other for a moment. Rogan was one of the more powerful Clan leaders and Samoth would need his support to help Sarah. He nodded curtly to the younger centaur. "I will see to it that you have no need."

Rogan nodded. "Understand, Elder, that I have no real wish to harm the girl. Her skills are impressive and she obviously has much support within the Clans. Although I have never met her, I have heard of her kindness and sense of justice. But I must put the safety of the Clans above the needs of the one, even one such as your adopted granddaughter." His face was hard, yet there was sorrow in his eyes as he spoke.

Samoth sighed. "I understand, but it would be a mistake. Sarah has a destiny beyond the Clans, and her fate could well be intertwined with that of us all."

"So you say, Samoth, but it is hard to believe such fantastic things." He shook his head and continued, clearly dismissing such questions in favor of more practical matters. "I recommend that we take only a small group of warriors, for the safety of the Clans."

"I agree, but I will not turn away any of Sarah's friends who wish to join us."

Rogan nodded and then stepped away, melting back into the crowd as they filtered away from the standing stones of the Henge. Adelina fell into step with Samoth as he made his way toward Sarah's tent. Inside, she lay in a sedative induced stupor, watched constantly by healers who attempted to keep her fever in check.

"What's in the Goblin Kingdom that can help Sarah?" Adelina asked.

"Hope," Samoth replied as they entered the hot and darkened tent. They strode to Sarah's bedside together and looked down at her. She was flushed and sweating with fever but still shivering. Her eyelids fluttered as she muttered to herself, thrashing on the bed even though Samoth knew that she had been given enough sedatives to take down a bull. Her face betrayed the agony that she was in, despite all that they could do to alleviate her pain.

"Hope," Samoth repeated quietly, "may be all we have left."

He turned to Adelina. "We don't have much time. Find Rogan and gather everyone who is willing to escort Sarah to the Goblin Kingdom. Have them prepare for winter conditions…" he paused, thinking about the news that had been in the dispatches from the High King. "Have them also prepare for battle; we do not know what trouble we may run into. We will have to hurry."

Adelina looked surprised at the order but nodded. In the crisis surrounding Sarah's condition, he had not yet had time to brief the clan chiefs about the situation in the Underground. He would need to do so before he left.

"Yes, Elder," Adelina said quietly. "We will leave tomorrow morning?" At his nod, she bowed and rushed out of the tent to begin preparations.

Samoth reached down and stroked Sarah's hair back from her heated forehead. "Hold on Sarah."

* * *

Chiara sat by the side of the bed, waiting for Katie to wake up. The Rabarianas healer that had taken care of her concussion had told her and Stryan that Katie would be fine to leave today, provided she could stand unaided. Chiara glanced at Stryan, sprawled in an armchair on the other side of the room that the old man had put Katie in when they brought her here for treatment. He was asleep as well, his arms crossed over her chest and his long legs stretched out straight in front of him. His boots were still on, his legs crossed at the ankle. He didn't look very comfortable, but he had insisted on staying with them for the night.

He had also insisted on being the one to pay the healer and had told the little nyxie that he would stay with them as long as they were in the city. He said that he was just trying to keep them safe from Vinn and his obvious interest in them, but Chiara had other ideas. She was beginning to suspect him of having a bit of a crush on Katie and she wondered whether she should warn him off or not. There were things about them both that he didn't know, and she didn't want him to get mixed up in the mess they were in.

A sound from Katie drew her attention. The mortal woman's eyes fluttered slightly and then opened. She stretched out, moaning slightly as she did so.

"Morning," Chiara said quietly.

Katie smiled. "Morning." She sat up in the bed and looked around. When she noticed Stryan still asleep on the chair, she reddened and clutched the blankets to her chest. Chiara watched her reaction with interest. Katie wasn't naked or anything; so her reaction seemed unnecessary Chiara sighed. She needed to separate those two as soon as possible.

Chiara flew over to the end of the bed and hovered over Katie's clothing, draped on the footboard. "Here's your clothes."

Katie flushed again. "Thanks," she whispered. She threw back the bedclothes, glancing uneasily at Stryan's sleeping form as she hurried to put on her clothing. Chiara was pleased to note that she didn't seem to be having any trouble with her balance as she hurriedly pulled on her clothing.

As Katie finished dressing, Chiara spoke quietly. "We need to go and see Vinn. He owes us some information."

Katie nodded, looking around for something. "Where's my pack?" She whispered, her voice tinged slightly with panic.

"Over there," Chiara pointed toward Stryan. "Stryan got it last night before he passed out."

Katie darted over to it and began to rummage around in the sparse contents. She pulled out the Book of the Labyrinth and sighed with relief. Replacing it, she lifted the pack and slung it over her shoulder.

"Let's go," Chaira urged, heading for the door.

Katie hesitated, turning back toward the sleeping rogue on the chair. "But-"

"Katie! C'mon," Chiara hissed. She was grateful for everything that Stryan had done for them. But she really, really wanted to leave him behind. In her mind, he was getting far too attached to Katie. Something that they could ill afford at the moment.

Katie shook her head. She reached down and closed her hand over Stryan shoulder. His eyes shot open immediately, his hands automatically reaching for his blades. "Woah! Easy," Katie said, stepping back and putting her hands out, palms facing the young man. "It's just me, Stryan."

Slowly, he relaxed. "Sorry 'bout that." He smiled up at Katie and then stretched to remove the stiffness brought on by sleeping in a chair. "Force of habit, I suppose."

"It's all right," Katie said. She stood there awkwardly, ignoring Chiara as she huffed impatiently.

Katie shuffled her feet, looking shyly at the ground. "Thanks, Stryan." He looked up, surprised. "Thanks for breaking me out, I mean. And- And for staying with me last night. You really didn't have to-"

"It was my pleasure, My Lady." Stryan said as he stood. He grinned at Katie and then winked before taking her hand and bowing over it. Chiara nearly groaned out loud. This was the last thing she wanted.

Katie stood frozen for a moment before snatching her hand back. There were two bright spots of color on her cheeks, but her eyes were shining as she smiled at Stryan. "I'm not a lady," she retorted, but there wasn't any heat to her voice. To Chiara, it sounded more like she was teasing him. The nyxie groaned inwardly. They couldn't afford such a distraction.

Katie and Stryan stood there, grinning foolishly at each other for a few moments. Disgusted with waiting, Chiara finally had enough. She flew over and yanked on Katie's hair. "Come on!" She screeched. She lowered her voice. "We have business to take care of, and  _someone to meet._ " She said, emphasizing her words with yet another tug on the human woman's rapidly growing hair

Katie sighed. Stryan grabbed his outer garments, donning them quickly and striding toward the door to the small room. "Let's go then; I'll take you to Vinn."

"That's not-" Katie began, but Stryan cut her off.

"Look, I'm going with you, whether you like it or not." He glanced at Chiara who glared at him before he looked back to Katie "Vinn was a little too interested in you. It makes me suspicious. I'm staying with the two of you until you are well out if his reach."

"So, we won't be getting rid of you as long as we are in Erisian?" Katie asked.

Stryan looked away. "That's right."

Katie nodded. "Let's go then."

As they left the healer's house, Chiara fretted about Stryan. Unlike Katie, she had seen his face when he answered her question. He had spoken the truth but not the whole truth. He meant to try to stay with them long after they left the city. She was sure of it.

The healers house was only several blocks from the Red Blade and they covered the distance quickly. Snow fell gently around them as they walked, muffling the sounds of the city's residents going about their morning activities. Chiara, peeking out of Katie's coat pocket, envied them their simple lives.

They entered the tavern, making their way to the back. Stryan and Katie greeted Pete, who was once again on door duty, cheerfully. He returned their greeting and added, "Th' boss is expectin' ya'."

Pete opened the door and ushered them inside. Katie smiled her thanks, but Stryan glowered. "I bet he is," Chiara heard him mutter to himself. She couldn't help but share his worry.

They threaded their way through the mostly empty tables and chairs and entered Vinn's office. Once inside, Chiara changed positions, moving from Katie's pocket to her shoulder. The room appeared to be empty causing Chiara to share a confused glance with her companions.

"Welcome back, mortal." Vinn's oily voice sounded from behind them. Stryan and Katie whirled around, Stryan's hands reflexively grasping the hilts of his knives for the second time that morning. Vinn tsked as him. "Now, now, Stryan. There's no need to be so jumpy."

Vinn, with his back facing them, was standing in front of a small round mirror set into a cabinet on the same wall as the door. He watched them in the mirror as he placed the large, straight razor he had been using to shave his head back on the dry sink set into the cabinet in front of him. He wiped the excess soap from his head with the towel that was around his neck before tossing the towel in the bowl of the dry sink and closing the door of the cabinet. He turned to face them. "I am delighted to see that you are once again free, and that you have recovered from that blow to your head," he said, addressing only Katie and ignoring the others. He approached them, stopping just in front of Katie, who shifted her weight uncertainty. He glanced quickly at Chiara, who stared at him coldly from Katie's shoulder before he returned his gaze to Katie's face.

Uncomfortable with his predatory gaze, Katie unconsciously stepped closer to Stryan. Chiara's expression changed from a cold stare to one of outright hostility. Vinn was acting oddly, and he was far too interested in Katie for her comfort. "We've come for the information you promised, about Sarah."

Vinn ignored her words, instead he gestured toward the seats placed in front of his desk and ushered Katie into one of them before seating himself. He did not touch her friend, but Chiara could feel her stiffen as though he had. The nyxie was getting very uneasy about the way things were going. She and Stryan shared a look as he took the seat next to Katie. He looked as unhappy as she felt.

"I was sorry to hear that you had such difficulties on your little adventure," Vinn said to Katie. Chiara could practically feel her shaking with tension. She shrugged, prompting Chiara to leap off her shoulder and onto the desk in front of Vinn.

"You promised us that information, Vinn! Quit playing games!" Chiara was rapidly losing what little patience she had. Time was running out and Mathyn could decide to check in on them at any time. While she knew that Vinn was probably no match for their master, it would not go well for them if he had to intervene.

"All in good time." Vinn barely spared her a glance, continuing to eye Katie with what could only be described as a calculating look. Chiara turned away in frustration. She noticed that Stryan's leg was bouncing up and down nervously, although he remained silent for the moment.

After several moments more, Vinn said, "Miss Byrne, it appears that you are made of sterner stuff than I had predicted. The Rabarianas are most grateful for your discretion in the face of the authorities. The Duchess, in particular, was most impressed by your bravery in staying silent, despite the threat of magical examination."

Katie lowered her eyes but her face hardened. "I am glad to have been of service," she said tartly. "Now if you would be so kind as to uphold your end of our bargain, we will be on our way."

"Hmmm." Vinn rose from his seat and came around the side of the desk to perch on the top, not far from Katie's left side. "We did have a bargain." He paused again, and Chiara wanted to scream. He was playing with them, but she couldn't figure out what his purpose was.

It happened so fast that it took Chiara a moment to register what had happened. Vinn's hand shot out, closing around Katie's left wrist. Without warning, he jerked her toward him, causing her to stumble forward slightly. With his free hand, Vinn swiftly pushed back the sleeve covering the arm in his grip, revealing the intricate pattern that covered it. As Katie struggled to free herself and pull her sleeve down, Chiara launched herself at the man's face. He easily batted her away, sending her crashing back to the desktop in a daze.

Stryan yelled with outrage and rose, knives in hand, to attack Vinn. Dimly, through the ringing in her ears, Chiara heard Vinn speak a single word. There was power behind that word, much more than she had expected from the unsettling man. At that word, Stryan stiffened and the tattoo on his neck glowed. The rogue grunted but was unable to move.

* * *

One moment, she was staring at Vinn, wondering what they were going to do if he refused to give them the information they needed, and the next, Katie found herself locked in his grip, her left arm bared to the elbow. For several heartbeats, she had been frozen in shock before she gathered her wits enough to start struggling. She saw him swat Chiara out of the air and heard Stryan's outraged cry. She felt a momentary sense of relief, only to have it quashed when Vinn said something that was clearly magical.

Katie redoubled her efforts to free herself, but she was no match for the surprising strength of the man who held on to her. Vinn swung her around, pinning her against the wall, his free hand around her throat, his other hand still holding her wrist in a vise like grip. Her head, so recently healed, smacked against the planks of the wall, causing her vision to blur momentarily. "Stop struggling, you stupid girl," he told her. "I don't want to hurt you." He stared into her eyes for a moment. Katie stared back, breathing hard. She nodded once, her movements stiff, and ceased struggling, unwilling to risk further injury.

He tightened his grip slightly, emphasizing his control over her. After a moment or two of inaction her part, Vinn removed his hand from her throat and took a half step back so that she was no longer pinned to the wall by his bodyweight. He turned all his attention to the curious mixture of scars and tattoos on her left arm that marked her servitude to Mathyn.

"Fascinating."

After letting him get a good look, Katie jerked her arm away from him and pushed her sleeve back down. "Satisfied?" she asked, shoving her way past him and heading toward Stryan, who was still frozen in the middle of the room. The young rogue grunted again, and Katie turned back to Vinn. "Release him."

Vinn chuckled. "I assure you that he is in no pain. I am not as good as whoever placed that," he indicated her arm, "on you." He muttered something that Katie didn't quite catch before Stryan stumbled into her. She caught him awkwardly, supporting his body while she glared at Vinn.

"Now, if you have satisfied your curiosity about me, I believe we have some business to finish," she ground out. "Where is Sarah?"

Vinn inclined his head. He turned away with a self satisfied smirk and resumed his seat, linking his hands behind his head and leaning back. A delighted smile spread across his face. "My sources tell me she is traveling with the centaurs."

"How could you possibly know that?" Chiara muttered from the desktop below him.

Vinn reached down and helped the nyxie to stand, a gesture that Katie found rather odd, given his hostility only moments before. The man was baffling. She couldn't figure him out and didn't want to stick around long enough to do so.

"Not all spies need to be large to be effective," he looked pointedly at the little nyxie. "You should know that very well."

Chaira snorted but made no reply. She launched herself into the air, coming to rest on Stryan's shoulder as he regained his footing.

"You bastard!" He raged at Vinn. Stryan pushed Katie behind him, stepping in front of her and blocking her view of his boss. "That was over the line, even for you."

The crime boss only smiled and shrugged. "I was curious."

The answer only seemed to enrage Stryan further, and he unsheathed his knives.

"Take care, boy, that you don't push my patience too far," Vinn warned darkly, his smile slipping away.

Katie placed a hand on Stryan's shoulder. "Let's just go," she urged. "We have what we came for." He resisted for a moment or two but eventually sheathed his blades with a sigh and turned away- but not before shooting Vinn a final glare.

With Stryan at her back, Katie headed for the door. She jerked it open and was stepping through it when Vinn's voice sounded again.

"I could have you freed from that spell, you know."

Katie stopped dead. Her heart pounded in her ears, and she wondered if she had heard him correctly. She felt like she was frozen in place. If he could really remove her ties to the Goblin King…

"It's not worth it, Katie," Stryan muttered in her ear. "Ignore him." She jumped slightly, not realizing that he had gotten so close, but she ignored his words. Glancing back at Vinn, she saw him lean forward with a smile, folding his hand on the desk in front of him as he watched her.

"Excuse me?" She stepped around Stryan, shaking off the hand that tried to guide her out of the room by the elbow. "Did you say that you could remove this?" She yanked her sleeve up and shoved her arm across the desk.

He glanced down at her arm, his eyes following the whorling patterns of tattoo and scar tissue with interest before he looked back up at her. "I can't remove it personally; my talents lie in… other directions. But unless I am greatly mistaken, I can have it removed." He leaned back in his chair. "By the way, who's work is that?"

"Katie!" Chiara's voice rang out behind her, the warning in her tone clear. Kate ignored her, staring fixedly at Vinn.

"What's the price?" A ghost of a smile appeared on Vinn's face, only to vanish as quickly as it came. He raised one eyebrow.

"That would depend on who you are already indebted to." He reached across the desk and grabbed her arm, ignoring the growl of irritation from Stryan. "No one expends so much energy, puts this kind of binding, on someone..." His eyes flicked to Chiara, still sitting on Stryan's shoulder. "Without a very good reason."

Chiara spoke up. "Katie, don't. You know what will happen if he finds out."

"If this can truly be removed, then isn't it worth the risk?" Katie didn't even look at Chiara, she continued to lock eyes with the slick crime boss across the desk from her. Chiara was silent.

"Well?" Vinn asked.

Katie took a deep breath. "I am not the only one bound. Chiara has her own bindings. Whatever deal we work out, will include her." Katie said firmly.

Vinn looked surprised. "Interesting. You are loyal…" he grinned wolfishly. "I like that."

"Katie." Stryan's tone was pleading and she turned toward him. "Don't do this. There are other ways. Believe me, any deal you make with him is-"

Vinn cut him off. "Is more than worth it. I assure you, Miss Byrne. Although I cannot promise that it will be feasible to remove the Nyxie's chains. They are of a different type than yours. And there is still the matter of who, exactly, you are bound to."

"There's no deal unless Chiara can be freed as well," Katie said firmly, turning back toward Vinn and squaring her shoulders. She looked him in the eye, despite the butterflies that seem to have erupted in her stomach. "What are your terms?"

Vinn chortled. "Oh, I think I'm going to like you!" His face grew serious. "I will have the binding on you removed as well as the one on the nyxie, if possible. In return, you will... indenture... yourself to the organization for a time."

Katie's eyes widened at the demand. "Why would you ask that? I'm not of any real use."

Vinn cocked his head to the side. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. In any case, the Duchess has taken an interest in you, and she instructed me to make the offer. Should you accept, I am to oversee matters until she says otherwise."

Stryan grabbed her shoulders and turned her toward him. He shook his head, looking her in the eye. "Just walk away Katie. Don't make the same mistake I did." He rubbed his neck, right where the tattoo of the spider spread across his skin. "We can find another way. You don't have to take this offer."

Katie thought about it. It was essentially trading on form of servitude for another. She glanced over at Vinn. "No more bindings and no tattoo's," she snapped. "I will work freely or not at all."

He smiled knowingly and nodded. "Very well."

She looked back at Stryan. "I need to do this." She drew Stryan toward the door and lowered her voice to barely a whisper. "I- we are in trouble, Stryan. Big trouble. I appreciate your concern, but I've got to take this chance."

Chaira spoke up before Stryan. "Katie, you don't know him like I do. As soon as you try to even test those bonds, he's going to know. He's ruthless. He will kill us without even a thought."

"But what if we succeed, Chiara? Isn't that worth the risk? Don't you want to be free?"

Stryan spoke bitterly. "You wouldn't be. Once Vinn gets his hooks into someone, he doesn't let go." They all glanced at the magician who was watching them converse with hooded eyes and a small smile on his face, which grew wider under their regard. "Whoever you're running from, he can't be as bad as Vinn."

"Yes, he can," Katie said, turning away and striding back toward Vinn. She had made up her mind. She saw a chance to eventually win her freedom, even if it was only a tiny chance, and she was going to seize it.

"I accept. You remove the Goblin King's spell, and I will work for the Rabarianas."

Vinn's eyes widened slightly but the small smile grew into a predatory grin. He and Katie both ignored the gasps from Stryan and Chiara at her bold words. "Glad to have you- Katie." He gestured toward the door. "Let us go see about having that pesky spell removed, shall we?"

Stryan looked upset. He shot her a glance but all Katie could do was look away. She knew he didn't want her to do this, but she was committed now. "I'm coming with you," he muttered to her as she passed, following Vinn out the door. He glared at Vinn's back and fell into step with Katie. "You're going to need my help."

* * *

They hadn't gone far before Vinn stopped in front of an entrance to the sewers that was blocked by a metal gate. Although it was growing thinner, the snow was still falling as he pulled out a key. He stuck it into the rusty lock that held the metal gate closed and turned it with a grunt, forcing the nearly seized mechanism to turn. The gate opened with a screech as they all filed quickly through and into the dank sewers. Vinn lit a torch that he picked up from somewhere inside the gate and gestured for them all to follow.

"Not much further," he said after a few minutes of walking. "She should be home at this time of day."

"Who would live in a place like this?" Katie shuddered as she picked her way through the filth on the floor. She could hear the sound of running water somewhere, as well as the rustlings of rats in the darkness. Vinn held the torch high, but it was barely enough to illuminate the ground in front of him. Unconsciously, Katie drifted closer to Stryan, seeking the comfort of his presence. He cupped a hand around her elbow, guiding her over and around obstacles that she could barely see in the weak, flickering light of the torch.

Vinn stopped in front of another grated door. "Goody, are you in?" he called out.

The door clicked and then swung open without help. Katie gasped. Vinn turned back and chuckled. "Goody Harran is quite powerful, but also fairly mad," he warned them with a shrug. "That happens when you deal mostly with curses."

They entered the domain of Goody Harran cautiously. Chiara, shivering in fear, jumped from Stryans shoulder to Katie's. She whispered, "Katie, we don't have to do this. We can still go back."

Katie shook her head wordlessly. She might be frightened, but she was committed. They stepped through several layers of shredded curtains, emerging from the dark tunnel as they did so. After the darkness of the sewers, Katie's eyes watered and she blinked in the unexpected light before them. Large braziers were set up around the boxlike chamber, illuminating everything in a ruddy orange glow. The walls were hung with rotting tapestries and curtains. There were mouldering cushions scattered in piles on the floor, next to piles and piles of junk. The smell of mildew rose up from the ground as they walked and Katie wrinkled her nose. She was appalled at the conditions. The nurse in her was busy cataloguing all of the health hazards in the room when she noticed movement on the far side.

An old, bent woman shuffled out of the shadows. As she got closer Katie struggled to hide her reaction to Goody Harran's appearance. What was left of the old woman's hair was snow white, but wispy. Through the long strands, Katie could see the mottled skin of her scalp, dotted here and there with scabs and liver spots. The old woman's age ravaged hands curled like talons, her joints arthritic and huge. Goody's garments hung on her thin frame, shredded to rags and layered to cover the holes.

Vinn stepped forward to meet her. "I've got a case for you, Goody." He waved Katie and Chiara forward. "She says the Goblin King has them bound. I need you to remove the binding."

Goody Harran beckoned Katie closer. She obeyed, shivering. The old woman peered up at both Katie and the nyxie on her shoulder with eyes that had once been brown but were now milky with cataracts. With a shock, Katie realized that the woman was not human, or elven. She was Fae, but clearly not fully Fae. Despite her age and condition, Katie could tell that she was of mixed race, quite unusual from what she had seen of the Fae during her forced trip through the Underground.

"Show me your arm," the old woman said in a wheezing voice." Katie blinked for a moment before offering her arm, wondering how the old woman knew what to look for.

The old woman ran her hands awkwardly over Katie's arm, hampered by her advanced arthritis. Her aged face wrinkled even further as she frowned. She peered up at Chiara, "Come here, nyxie. Let me see you." Her voice was irritated, and Katie wondered what they had done to displease the old crone.

Chiara fluttered slowly down to perch on the back of the old woman's hand. The woman passed her clawed hand over the little night faerie without actually touching her, her milky eyes staring hard. After a moment, she sighed and made a small shooing motion to tell Chiara that she was done. Chiara flew back to Katie's shoulder and waited anxiously.

"Well?" Katie asked, her mouth dry.

The old woman shook her aged head. "I can remove the curse on the mortal but not that which binds the faerie," she told Vinn.

The bald man nodded. "I thought that might be the case."

Katie folded her arms over her chest. "If you can't free both of us, then we'll pass, thanks."

Stryan sighed in relief, and Vinn looked displeased. Before either could say anything, the old woman peered back up at Katie. "You say the Goblin King did this to you?" She asked in disbelief. On her shoulder, Katie could feel Chiara go rigid.

"That's right." Katie said, uncertainty.

The old hag cackled. "I think not, my girl." She grabbed Katie's arm again, bringing it close to her face so that she could study it. Her beaklike nose practically touching Katie's skin as she did so. "This is dark magic, tainted and foul. The Goblin King doesn't touch such evil."

"But, he did!" Katie exclaimed. She forgot her discomfort and glared at the old woman. "I'm telling you, the Goblin King put this on me to punish me! It binds me as his slave. Tell her, Chiara!"

Chiara flew off her shoulder and landed on a pile of crates not far off. "Katie…" she began before trailing off. She refused to meet Katie's gaze. Katie watched, puzzled, as Chiara shifted from foot to foot and became very interested in the splinters of wood peeling off of the crate she stood on.

Vinn laughed slightly. "Only one person is crazy enough to claim to be the Goblin King."

The old woman nodded. "I've heard of the things that Mathyn has done, even here in the sewers there is talk of his tainted magic."

Katie heard their conversation but only dimly. Her entire attention was focused on Chiara and the anger that was just starting to blossom in her chest. Katie tried desperately to push that anger down. She had to have misunderstood what was going on here. Chiara wouldn't have lied to her- not again. She shook her head and took a step back, refusing to meet Chiara 's gaze, despite the pleading look on the nyxie's face. Instead, she looked over at Vinn. "I don't understand."

Vinn shot a sly look in Chiara's direction. "It seems that your little friend hasn't told you everything, has she?"

Katie turned her stricken gaze back to Chaira. The look on the nyxie's face told her all she needed to know. The anger that she had been trying to contain exploded out of her as the hope that she had somehow misunderstood was dashed.

"You've been lying to me!" she shrieked. "After all this time, you still didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth! You told me that you wouldn't keep any more secrets from me!" Katie balled her hands into fists. She had never wanted to hit something as badly as she wanted to do so now. Her feelings went beyond hurt. This was betrayal, and worse, betrayal by someone that she considered a friend.

"Katie…" Chiara whispered. "I-"

"You said you were on my side," Katie told her bitterly. She turned to Vinn. "So if it wasn't the Goblin King that did this, who was it?" She ignored the miserable looking Nyxie, unable to even look at her she was so disgusted.

Vinn smiled unpleasantly. "I'd guess that it was Mathyn. Like I said, he's the only one crazy enough to pretend to be the Goblin King."

"And he is...?" Tears of rage were leaking from her eyes now, and she angrily swiped them away. She had thought it hurt the first time she had found out that Chiara betrayed her. To find out that she was  _still_  keeping secrets about their situation from her was even worse. Things might have been different if she had known the truth!

Stryan stepped up next to her and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. He spoke quietly, his lips pressed against the side of her head in his attempt to comfort her. "Mathyn is Jareth's - the Goblin King's- brother. Rumors say that Mathyn wasn't happy with his position as second in line for the High Throne. He disappeared for years, only returning when Jareth won the Goblin Throne. Some say he made a play for the high throne that night, only to be thwarted by Jareth. Ever since then, he's had command of free magic, like his brother, but it is twisted somehow. Those two have been enemies ever since."

Vinn stepped closer and said softly, "Obviously, you've seen what he can do."

Katie turned her eyes to Chiara once again, her rage boiling over. "Were you ever going to tell me, or were you just going to let me believe that the one person who might have helped me was responsible for our enslavement?"

"I- I couldn't, Katie! Please, you have to bel-"

"No!" Katie screamed, pulling away from Stryan. She couldn't bear his attempt to comfort her right now- not if she wanted to keep from dissolving into tears of rage. "No more lies! I don't believe you anymore. Just get out. I don't ever want to see you again!"

"Katie…" Chiara crumpled down on top of the crates, tears running down her small face and dripping from her pointed chin.

Katie turned away from the nyxie. To hell with the lying little pest, she thought. She was going to go ahead and free herself and damn the consequences! Katie looked to Goody Harran. "You said you can remove this?"

The old woman nodded. "I can, but he will know as soon as I begin." The old woman shifted her milky gaze to the nyxie. "I cannot remove hers. He bound her soul, and only he may undo it. She will be in danger when I meddle with your binding."

Katie glared coldly and shrugged. "Do it."

"It will be painful." Goody Harran cautioned her. "And, it will take time. The others should leave- for their own safety."

Katie took a deep breath and nodded again. Goody Harran moved into the center of the room where a pallet of old blankets and cushions sat on the floor. "Come lay over here," she instructed. "The rest of you must leave, now."

Katie stepped away from Stryan, dodging his hands, outstretched to stop her, and moved slowly toward the pallet. "Katie-" Stryan began, only to be cut off by Vinn's hand descending on his shoulder in a viselike grip.

"Let's go," Vinn growled. His tone indicated that he would tolerate no arguments as he steered the young rogue toward the curtained entrance.

Katie gingerly lay down on the pallet and Chiara looked up as the men were leaving. She flew over to Katie and paused. The old woman looked at Katie again. "I can remove the binding but not the marks. Those are permanent; I'm afraid." She then looked up at the Nyxie. "You, I cannot help. Leave, now."

"Katie," Chiara whispered again. Katie refused to look at her, staring up at the ceiling instead. Her anger was still too hot, her wounds still too fresh, for her to do anything else. If she looked at Chaira now, then she wouldn't be able to go through with this.

"I'm sorry, Katie." A lump formed in her throat, and Katie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out everything around her. She clenched her teeth and remained silent, determined to ignore Chiara to the end. The nyxie hung her head before sadly following Vinn and Stryan out of the trash filled room.

Tears flowed over Katie's temples as the sound of the nyxie's wings faded away.

Outside, Vinn and Stryan had re-entered the sewers and stood arguing amidst the trash and filth. Stryan was tense, but Vinn still seemed as though he were completely unaffected by the younger man's anger and frustration. Despite her own feelings, Chiara paused, almost reflexively dropping back into her role as a spy, to watch the exchange between the two men.

"I have things that I need to do, boy, and you do as well," Vinn reminded Stryan. "I have been more than patient with you as you played out your little rebellion, but enough is enough."

Stryan crossed his arms over his chest. "I have no desire to be your errand boy any longer. I've done enough for you, old man. I won't play your games any longer. You and I are through!"

Vinn's eyes narrowed slightly. He sharply said a word that was incomprehensible to Chiara. Her lack of understanding did not hinder her recognition of the power within the word, however. Too often had she been on the receiving end of someone else's power to be oblivious to those who wielded it. For the second time that day, Stryan's body went stiff and unmoving as the tattoo on his neck glowed with magic.

Vinn's eyes glittered with satisfaction as Stryan was immobilized, and his voice dropped to a menacing hiss. "I pulled you out of the gutter, boy. If it weren't for me, you'd still be traveling around with that sorry troupe of acrobats, begging for pennies in town squares. I gave you a chance to better yourself. I gave you skills that other men have thrown themselves at my feet to learn because I saw potential in you that I did not see in them. You think you can just walk away from me that easily? We aren't through; far from it. I own you, boy!"

Despite his inability to move, Chiara could see Stryan's eyes harden dangerously as he looked at Vinn. For a moment, it seemed as though Vinn were going to win their little battle of wills, but then she noticed something else. Slowly, Stryan's body became less still and stiff. First, came small movements of his hands and fingers, then his head and arms. Finally, he took a deep breath, shattering the remains of Vinn's binding and stretching his body, catlike, to prove that he was able to move. Vinn's shocked expression told Chiara that this was a very unexpected development indeed.

As Stryan stepped forward, Vinn glanced Chiara's way, yet his eyes missed her as he looked down the passage, toward the room where Katie and Goody Harran were. His eyes flickered back to the angry, young man in front of him. "Hmmm, very good. Once again, you surprise me, Stryan. I did not expect such a show of power."

"Didn't you?" Stryan spat. "You can no longer control me, Vinn. I am done with you."

Vinn's eyes strayed back down the passage again. "Perhaps."

Vinn's meaning was as clear to Stryan as it was to Chiara. "Leave her out of this, Vinn," he warned. "This is between you and me. Katie has nothing to do with it."

"Of course not, dear boy. She and I have our own agreement. If you'll recall." Vinn's smile was derisive, and Chiara saw Stryan's shoulders drop, just slightly.

"I won't leave her to face this alone!" Stryan said hotly.

Vinn grinned. "You're getting awfully worked up, boy. I thought you were ready to walk away from me. I am gratified that you have changed your mind." His voice dropped again as he leaned in close to Stryan and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "Rest assured that I won't forget this." Stryan simply stared, stone faced, at the man.

Vinn's chuckled, his amusement and satisfaction spreading across his face as he did so. "You can wait, if you want," Vinn declared airily. "But I'm not staying. Do bring Miss Byrne along when it's all through, won't you?"

He turned and walked away. Stryan clenched his fists and stared at the retreating man's back with an expression of pure loathing. After a moment, he let out a frustrated sigh and slouched against the wall next to Goody Harran's door.

He closed his eyes and raked his hand through his hair Chiara, her shoulders slumped dejectedly, fluttered out of the tunnel and came to a stop in front of him. "Stryan."

The rogue looked up, his eyes hardened for a moment as he looked at her. "What?"

Chaira recoiled from his harsh gaze. She needed to convince him that everything she had done was to protect Katie. Looking back now, Chiara admitted that she probably should have told her friend the truth at some point. It had never seemed like a good time, even if she had been inclined to tell her that the person who enslaved them was not the Goblin King. After a while, it had just faded into unimportance in Chiara's mind.

Katie was right, though. Maybe, just maybe, things would have been different if she had told her about Mathyn. Perhaps, they could have sought help…

Chiara dismissed that thought almost as soon as it entered her mind. Her crimes, especially those against the Goblin Kingdom and it's King, were unforgivable. Throwing herself on the mercy of the aristocracy would only have earned both of them a quick, shameful death. And that's if they were lucky. If not, then their deaths would have come at Mathyn's hands, and their manner of death would have been neither swift, nor merciful. This way, at least Katie would have a chance at freedom, and something approaching a normal life.

"I- I never meant to hurt her," she whispered. "I was trying to protect her."

Stryan snorted, but she rushed to continue. "You don't know what it is like! He's absolutely ruthless. He doesn't care if she lives or dies. He even brought her Underground with no way of avoiding the addiction of Faerie food." Tears slipped down her cheeks once again. "I was afraid that if I told her who he really was, if I revealed that we weren't on a legitimate mission for the Goblin King, that she would resist. If she did that, there is no telling what he would do! He threatened to rape and kill her, Stryan!"

At her words, Stryan's eyes widened. He considered her, his eyes narrowing for a moment before he allowed his face to relax. "I didn't realize that things were so bad for you," he told her quietly. "Why didn't you ever say anything? I would have done everything that I could to protect you."

Chiara shook her head, touched at his concern. "I didn't want to put you in danger." He opened his mouth for a retort, but she continued without letting him speak. "I know you are going to say that you wouldn't have minded, but I did, Stryan. At first, I kept silent out of fear of my master. Then, as we slowly got to know each other over the years, I didn't want one of the very few actual friends I had to get involved. This is my problem and mine alone."

"Aw, Nyx…" he held out a hand, and she settled lightly on his palm.

"Meeting Katie made me a better person." She smiled tremulously at him. "Not all that long ago, I wouldn't have cared much what happened to her. Now I care. I care a lot. She's my friend." She sniffled slightly and wrapped her small arms around her own waist, trying to keep her fear at bay. She would need to be strong now. She couldn't let on that she was terrified of what she knew was coming. As soon as Katie was free, her fate was sealed. Mathyn would find her, and he would kill her without a second thought. She was about to fail her master for the last time. She would do everything she could to delay it, but it was inevitable. The longer she could remain hidden though, the better Katie's chances of escaping the same fate.

"What can I do?" Stryan looked at her, concern on his face. Katie took a deep breath and stood straight, dropping her arms at her sides. She had to see this through.

"I- I want you to look after her," she said, pointing back up the corridor where Katie and Goody Harran were preparing to remove the spell that bound the mortal woman to the deranged Fae. "I can't stay, and she certainly doesn't want me to. It'll be less dangerous for her if I get as far away as I can. Mathyn can track me with magic, but hopefully, Goody Harran can block his ability to find her while she breaks the binding."

Stryan's eyes softened slightly. "You really do care about her, don't you?"

Chiara nodded. "I'll do everything I can to keep him from finding her, and Sarah. But…" Tears continued to stream down her face. "She is going to need a friend. Someone who can shield her from Vinn and his manipulations."

"Where will you go?"

Chiara shook her head and shrugged, not wanting to give him too much information. When Mathyn finally did find her, she didn't want him to be anywhere near her. "I don't know. I will probably stick to cities and other crowded places. He- he has a harder time finding me when I surround myself with others. When he learns that I have information on Sarah, he'll come looking for me for sure."

"How will he learn such a thing?"

Chaira looked at him sorrowfully. "I am bound to him by my very soul. He has only to stretch out his mind, and there is nothing that I can keep from him for long." She shuddered.

Stryan looked concerned as Katie launched herself into the air once more. "Will you-" he hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Will you check in with me, every once in a while? She might change her mind, you know."

Chiara shook her head through her tears, "It won't be safe"

"What is?" Stryan asked her. "I'm already involved. What could it hurt to meet me every now and then, just to let me know you are alright?"

It was time for her to go. She looked up at him sadly, but nodded, more to make him happy than from any real intention of following through with his request. "Don't worry about me. Watch out for her now. She doesn't know a damn thing about how things work Underground, but she's learning."

Stryan nodded with a chuckle. "I noticed. I'll be there for her, I promise." Chiara nodded and "Take care of yourself, Nyx. I'll try to put in a good word for you. Don't be a stranger, ok?"

Chiara nodded. "And tell her-" she faltered and choked back a sob. "Tell her that I'm sorry, and that I'll do my best to protect her… and Sarah." Stryan nodded before Chiara turned away. She barely heard his whispered farewell as she hurriedly flew off, wanting to put as much distance between herself and Katie as she could before Goody Harran started. Just as she approached the entrance to the sewers, the screams began, echoing through the tunnels behind her. Chiara flew faster, weeping.


	26. Unforgivable Cruelty

**Disclaimer -**  No, the Easter Bunny didn't give me the rights... So, sadly, I do not own or profit from anything that belongs to Jim Henson Studios.

A/N - Sorry readers, time for a dark chapter. As I said, things will get better, but for now, gloom and doom!

My thanks to my beta, ladyofshallot19 for her editing skills!

**Warning**  - Mental and physical torture ahead. As well as some violence.

* * *

Chiara shivered and tried to wedge herself further into the space between the crates and the wall of the warehouse. Night was falling, and the streets were getting emptier. Soon, she would have to take refuge in a tavern or tenement - anywhere that there was sure to be a great many people. She had not left Erisian. Without the cover of the city, teeming with souls to hide amongst, Chiara knew that she would be easy to find. The countryside was too exposed. She also didn't want to abandon Katie altogether, regardless of how angry the mortal woman was with her. In the days since she and Katie had parted, Chiara had spent most of her time hiding, and trying to keep herself from falling asleep.

It was when she was asleep that she was in the most danger. She couldn't keep Mathyn from finding her in her dreams, connected as they were. If he found her, there was no way that she would be able to hide the information she now carried about Sarah. She didn't know Sarah, but she knew that the Champion was important to Katie. Because of Sarah's importance to her friend, Chiara was no longer willing to give up the information that they had spent so long looking for. Even so, her circumstances were beginning to wear on her. The nyxie didn't know how much longer she would be able to keep up this endless hiding and sleep deprivation.

As the darkness of the winter night deepened, Chiara made her way to a rundown tenement on the edge of the warehouse district. The ageing structure was obviously beginning to decay, it's boards rotting away, only to be replaced with inferior wood scavenged from other, equally old, buildings. The crumbling brickwork had been patched and repatched, giving it a rather scabrous appearance, and there was a decided lean to its walls. The building was old and drafty, but it still provided adequate shelter from the winter wind. As such, it housed more families than was good for its structure, which, as long as it did not choose this night to collapse, was a bonus as far as Chiara was concerned. She also didn't think that she had hidden there before- another point in its favor.

Chiara slipped inside and wormed her way into the middle of the building. She hoped that by surrounding herself with all of the families that lived in this building, she could spend another night anonymously, screened from the seeking mind of Mathyn. Provided she could stay awake, of course.

Once inside, she darted about, slipping through the shadows that gathered up near the ceilings. She stayed away from the harried mothers and exhausted men who were making their way home at the end of the day. After looking for a place to settle for a while, she came upon a crack between the ceiling and the walls. Flitting closer, Chiara felt a delicious warmth seeping from that crack. The closer she got, the warmer it was, and she realized that there must be a chimney just on the other side of the wall.

Without hesitation, she slid into the crack, which widened into a substantial gap inside the wall itself. Obviously, some attempt had been made to disguise the extent of the damage from the hallway, probably to keep the building from being condemned. Regardless, it made for the perfect hiding place. Chiara was grateful that she had found a safe place to spend the night.

Once inside, the small space restricted her wings, and Chiara had a hard time staying aloft amidst the beams, nails, and bits of plaster. She quickly found a crossbeam that wasn't broken or covered in plaster and settled herself down on it. She could see the stone of the chimney that ran up through the building just a little ways away.

The warmth thrown off by those stones washed over her, and Chiara felt herself relaxing. Her hands and feet tingled with sharp pains as they warmed, but even that couldn't stop the feeling of lethargy that engulfed her. For the moment, she was safe and she was warm, and that was all that mattered.

Thoughts of Katie drifted through her tired mind, and she wondered if Stryan was taking care of her.  _Probably not_ , Chiara thought with the ghost of a smile. Katie wasn't one to let someone else take care of her. Tears welled in the nyxie's silvery eyes as she remembered the anger in her friend's voice while Katie told her told her to get out. She should have told Katie the truth a long time ago, then maybe they would still be together.

She sniffled. There was nothing she could do about that now. Nobody, not even the real Goblin King with his ability to manipulate time, could go back and change something that had already happened in the past. Chiara blinked hard, trying to push the tears back. As she did, she felt her eyelids growing heavy, and she shook her head sharply, trying to dispel the sleep that was creeping up on her. For a moment, the tactic worked, and Chiara took a deep breath.  _I need to figure out some sort of plan_ _,_  she thought.  _I won't be able to hide forever._

Despite her determination, Chiara hardly noticed when her thoughts began to drift. Her head lolled back against the plaster that protruded through the wood of the wall as her exhaustion overtook her and she fell asleep.

She had hardly entered her dreams before Mathyn overtook her. He came swiftly, sneaking through her sleeping mind without a trace before he pounced. He pinned her beneath his will like a bug. Despite her attempts to struggle, she was unable to throw him off. He appeared before her in her mind's eye, his dark cloak billowing in a non-existent wind as a cruel smile twisting his face into something between a grin and a snarl.

"Well, Chiara, it seems that you have finally gotten up the courage to defy me. It will be the last thing you do."

Chiara shrank away from him, but he cast out a rope of his magic. It sizzled through the air and then wrapped around her dream form, pulling her towards him, burning her mind as it did so. She made a feeble attempt to block him out, throwing up barrier after barrier in her mind, all of which he smashed with ease.

"Stupid bitch," Mathyn taunted. "There isn't anything you can do that will keep me out of your mind. Did you really think that you could? I own you, body and soul, and there is nothing you can hide from me!"

Chiara's mind flashed to Katie and her tenuous freedom. She must not betray her friend.

"I know all about that mortal cunt's defection. If she thinks she will remain free of me, then she is sorely mistaken. I brought her Underground to serve my purpose. She will do so, or I will make her regret that she ever met me." He sneered. "Perhaps I will take her as a bed partner for a time, until I break Sarah to me. It would be amusing to watch her spirit crumble under the kind of treatment I could inflict on her."

Chiara swallowed hard as bile rose in her throat. She shook her head. "No," she objected hoarsely. "Do whatever you want to me, but just let Katie go. You've already trapped her here in the Underground, sentencing her to a short, hard life among those who will barely age while she lives and dies in a mere blink of your eye. Isn't that enough?" She just barely avoided the thought or mention of Stryan. She didn't want him embroiled in this mess. Besides, it would be better for Katie if she had an ally that Mathyn knew nothing about. With her new connections to the Rabarianas, she at least had a modicum of protection against the twisted Fae's manipulations.

"Not likely," Mathyn growled. "She has my book, and I intend to collect it... just as I intend to collect my bride."

Chiara's mind flew to Sarah and his lips twisted in a knowing smile. "I can tell that you have information about where she is." He brought further pressure to bear on her mind, clamping down hard, crushing her will with his own and nearly pushing her over the edge into madness. "Still you resist me. Interesting."

'I- I won't… I won't help you!" Chiara gasped, writhing under the pain that he inflicted. Still, she refused to give up. His questing thoughts turned into a hot poker that burned her mind as he stabbed into it, searching for the information he wanted. Resolutely, she turned her mind away from Sarah and Katie, thinking about mountain nights, her childhood in the southern deserts, the cities she'd visited… flowers… blades of grass blowing in the wind… anything and everything to block him from what he sought.

Mathyn chuckled darkly at her feeble attempts. "You know I'll get what I want in the end," he said, almost kindly. "Why prolong this? You are only hurting yourself in the process."

Mutely, Chiara shook her head and thought of a summer thunderstorm she had once witnessed over the ocean. She remembered the roar of the surf and the sound of the rain pouring down onto the rocks. She watched the wind whipping through the trees, and bright flashes as the lightning struck the water. She experienced again the bone shaking explosions that followed. Chiara tried to focus on each and every detail to the exclusion of anything else, hoping that it would keep Mathyn out of her memories.

With hardly a pause, Mathyn sidestepped the roadblocks she was trying to throw up, rendering her efforts futile as he pressed further and further into her mind. He rooted viciously through her memories, ripping and tearing in his eagerness to find what he sought.

Her mind recoiled from the pain of the intrusion, twisting and turning as she sought to evade his searching probes. She could feel his frustration growing, even as her resolve weakened.

"I don't have time for this, you little bitch," he snarled. "Give me what I'm looking for before I start ripping your mind to pieces!" He began to wield his own mind like a bludgeon, bashing his way through her subconscious in his bid to force her to give up Sarah's location.

Sobbing soundlessly, Chiara tried to stand fast under his blows, but each one felt like a smith's hammer striking the delicate nerves in her head. By the third blow, her mind was reeling, and she lost control of all conscious thought. Random memories and images began to flip through her mind as the last of her resistance crumbled under his onslaught.

With a harsh bark of laughter and a victorious smile, Mathyn's blows changed to searching stabs. Unable to bear any more abuse, Chiara allowed him to pull Sarah's location to the forefront of her mind.

"The centaurs!" His surprise made him draw back slightly from her mind, allowing Chiara a moment's respite from his attack. Frantically, she tried to bury her recent memories of Katie as far in her mind as she could. She had failed to protect Sarah. She only hoped that she would not fail Katie as well.

"I wonder how the old bat managed to transport the girl so very far away," he muttered to himself. Chaira knew better than to answer. She could feel tears streaming down her sleeping face and knew that she was still dreaming. Desperately, she tried to force herself to awaken, but Mathyn still held her sleeping mind in his viselike grip. Her struggle drew his attention once more.

His lip curled. "Pathetic. You are useless to me now." He directed a stabbing blow into her mind. Chiara reeled at the impact. She could not take much more of this without her mind fracturing altogether, and he knew it.

His glee was apparent as he pulled her mind back into close contact with his. "Nevertheless, you are still mine. I will be coming for you, you useless bit of gutter trash. You can run, but you know you will not be able to escape me."

A sob escaped Chiara as she watched him rear back for what she was sure would be the final blow. Not wanting to see it coming, she closed her eyes tightly.

Instead of a blow, when he next touched her mind, it was very nearly a caress. "No, I am not going to break your mind," he whispered. "That would be far too easy. Instead, you will keep your mind so that every moment of every day you will know fear. You will never know when I will come for you. I want you to be aware that everyday could be your last. When I come for you, and I will, you will wish that I had broken you here and now."

He withdrew from her mind slowly, keeping her pinned the entire time. As soon as she could, Chiara sat bolt upright with a shriek. Voices sounded on the other side of the wall, sleepily asking what the noise was. Chiara realized that the sound they were hearing were her own horrified sobs and screams. She clamped her mouth shut and hugged her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth. Tears streamed down her face as she looked wildly around the small space between the walls. The dark, always her friend before, now seemed menacing, full of evil intent.

She had known that Mathyn would likely kill her, but his promise chilled her. She had expected a quick, sudden death at his hands, not the lingering fear of living with the knowledge that she could be hunted down at any time.

Chiara sat, curled into a tight ball for the rest of the night. She had no trouble staying awake.

* * *

Ralok stood at the entrance to the cave, looking out on the snow covered landscape. The white coating was unbroken but for the tracks of the two groups of scouts he had sent out. One group was headed to Bhandarth to warn the dwarven king that Mathyn's forces were about to descend on the kingdom. The other group was headed for Avalon with a similar message. The dwarven prince hoped that they would make it in time.

"Are we ready?" he called back into the cave as he shouldered his pack and picked up his weapons.

The five remaining dwarves trooped out of the cave, carrying everything they would need for their mission. One of them handed Ralok the bandolier that had been prepared for him. It was loaded with explosive charges. He slung it over his chest as the group set out, breaking new trails through the snow. They headed north.

As they walked, Ralok reflected on the orders he had given for their current mission. Although the men all thought the plan crazy, the only one who actually argued with him was Enna. She had argued with him for what felt like hours, trying to dissuade him from attempting the very thing he and the others were now climbing into the the pass to do. She argued, but had been unable to come up with an alternative plan, just as he'd failed to. Her objections had become even more strenuous when Ralok had told her he wanted her to lead the messenger party to Avalon.

_"This is crazy, Ralok, absolutely insane! What am I going to tell the king if something happens to you? How can I go back to Bhandarth knowing that I let his nephew, his heir, implement such a harebrained idea?"_

_"You'll tell him that I ordered you to go!" Ralok found himself yelling at her. Enna was exasperating sometimes. He crossed his arms over his chest and stood glaring down at the dwarven woman in front of him._

_Enna placed her hands on her hips and glared right back at him. "Oh, so I'm just supposed to leave you to stop thousands of orcs with only a handful of men? … and a few explosives? She added tartly, glancing behind him at the small stack of explosives sitting against the wall of the cave._

_"Well, I haven't heard any better ideas! If they get through the pass then the rest of the Underground will be overrun." Ralok shrugged his shoulders and looked at the still upset but less angry woman standing in front of him. "I can't let that happen, Enna."_

_Her hands dropped from her hips and her shoulders slumped. "I know, it's just…"_

_Ralok looked into her glowing violet eyes and saw his own feelings reflected back at him. "I know," he whispered back to her._

In the end, Ralok had been forced to issue a direct order for Enna to lead the group carrying the message to the human kingdom. Otherwise, he just knew that she would refuse to leave and let him do what he needed to.

After several hours of hard walking, Ralok and the others reached the pass. This was a dangerous place to be after the snowstorm. The risk of avalanche was so great that they did not speak aloud. Instead, they communicated with hand gestures. After communicating in this way for several minutes, the entire group shrugged off their packs and made ready to begin the next phase of their mission.

Ralok inspected both the eastern and western cliffs. When each dwarf was outfitted with metal climbing spikes, a coil of wire, and spiked climbing shoes, he gestured toward the eastern cliff. Of the two, it was the steeper and more dangerous climb, but that also meant that it was better for their plans.

As the six dwarves spread out along the base of the cliff and began their climb, Ralok sent a silent prayer to the Fates that this would work. If it didn't then they were all likely climbing to their deaths.

After an hour of exhausting climbing, Ralok paused. He looked back down, trying to judge how far up the cliff face he and the others had come. Deciding that this was high enough to begin, he pulled an explosive charge off of the bandolier he wore across his chest. Leaning hard against the cliff face, he carefully threaded the wire into the cap of the explosive and tied it off. A flare of magical energy told him that the wire and the charge were properly connected.

Dwarven magic might not have been flashy and exciting like Fae or Elven magic, but it was damned useful sometimes.

Seeing a crack off to the right at about waist height, he stretched out and stuffed the explosive into it, taking care to pay out enough wire to keep it in place as he pulled his hand away.

He craned his neck, trying to see the others in order to gauge their progress up the snow covered cliff. He caught sight of at least one of his men, quite a way above him. With a grunt, Ralok resumed his climb, stopping every now and then to shove another charge into a crevice in the the rocks and snow. Once they got to the top. He would wire all the charges together before setting them off. This should create on hell of an avalanche of rocks and snow. If they were lucky, half the cliff would crash down into the pass, blocking Mathyn's army north of Ravencall.

Ralok knew that the mess they were preparing to make was going to be a real bitch to clean up. He didn't think even Mathyn would be able to remove millions of tons of rock and snow easily, magic or no. With luck, that would stall them just long enough for the rest of the Underground to prepare.

At least one of his men had reached the top when Ralok noticed movement far below him on the floor of the pass. He squinted, trying to make out what was going on. When he did, his blood turned to ice. An advance party of orcs seemed to be making their way cautiously through Ravencall Pass. Ralok fumbled for his spyglass, leaning precariously out from the the cliff face to get a better look as he did so. Gripping one of the climbing spikes with his right hand, Ralok brought the spyglass up to his eye with his left. He leaned further, trusting all of his weight to the spike embedded in the rock of the cliff and trained his spyglass on the party below.

He had been correct. The party consisted largely of orcs... and one dwarf. He honed in on the dwarf with shock, noting his scraggly red beard and the obvious ease with which he navigated the treacherous terrain of the pass. As Ralok watched, the dwarf issued quick orders to the orcs who moved ahead quietly, noses snuffling. The dwarven prince's stomach dropped. They had obviously detected the scent of him and his men. They would have to hurry.

At that moment, the spike that he was clinging to slipped slightly. Ralok threw himself back toward the cliff face, scrambling for a more secure handhold as the spike dropped away from him. His heart raced. The few seconds it took for him to find a solid handhold seemed like an eternity.

He clung to a jutting rock, breathing raggedly and listening for the inevitable shout of discovery when the orcs heard his falling spike hit the ground far below. Adrenaline made his knees weak, so Ralok ground his cheek into the icy rock in front of him, using the pain to ground himself once again. Only when the feeling passed did he move.

He took a cautious peek down, searching for the spike. Relief washed over him when he saw that it had fallen harmlessly into a snowdrift just a few body lengths further down the cliff. He sent a prayer of thanks to every dwarven god as well as the Fates for good measure, and prepared to continue his climb as quickly as he could. If there was a scouting party here in the pass, then the bulk of the orcish force couldn't be far behind.

Stuffing his spyglass back into the strap on his belt, Ralok grasped the rocks above him and began to climb as fast as he could, abandoning his previously cautious climbing techniques. He paid less attention to where he was placing his feet and he stopped using his hammer to pound in the climbing spikes, relying instead on brute strength. It was quieter.

As he climbed, placing the few charges he had left somewhat haphazardly, rage began to burn in his heart. He couldn't believe that a dwarf would betray the kingdom. Not only the kingdom, but all the Realms! If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, then he wouldn't have believed it. He didn't recognize the dwarf, but that didn't matter. Ralok would make it his personal mission to ensure that this particular dwarf did not survive the day.

His chest and back burning with the strain of the climb, Ralok approached the top of the cliff. He paused to look around, noting that he could no longer see any of his comrades on the cliff around him. No doubt they were waiting for him at the top. As if they could read his mind, a rope slithered down next to him. Gratefully, Ralok grabbed onto it and peered up at the clifftop above him. He couldn't see anyone, but he assumed that they were all well back from the cliff face, working to keep the rope they offered him secure.

Ralok heaved himself over the edge of the cliff, the wire that connected all of his charges lying forgotten next to him, hidden in the snow. He lay on his belly for a moment, panting with exertion, before staggering to his feet and looking around for the rest of his men. He followed the rope with his eyes but found it tied off to a tree, not a dwarf in sight. He blinked, perplexed at the situation.

A sinister chuckle sounded off to his left. He whipped around, searching for the source. The scene before him had him scrambling for his war hammer.

All five of his men were bound and gagged, lying hogtied in the snow. A pack of orcs stood around them, grinning in amusement at the dwarves' jerky attempts to free themselves from their bindings. One of the bound dwarves gave a muffled yelp, only to be kicked viciously in the side by the closest orc. Ralok's hand closed around the handle of his weapon, but he never got the chance to draw it. A blade was pressed to his throat from behind.

"I wouldn't do that."

Mathyn stepped out from behind the pack of orcs that were holding his men. Ralok caught his breath. Of all of the scenarios he had imagined when coming up with this plan, the appearance of the disgraced prince had not figured in a single one. His mind raced, trying to figure out a way to get them all out of this mess even as he was disarmed and shoved face down before Mathyn.

"I commend you for your attempt,  _dwarf_. It was quite a risk, making that climb so soon after a snowstorm. It's too bad that no one will ever hear of your heroic sacrifice." Mathyn sneered as Ralok staggered to his feet.

"Fuck off, traitor," Ralok growled, crossing his arms over his chest and spitting in the snow at Mathyn's feet.

The handsome Fae's face twisted as he fingered the dagger strapped to his belt. For a moment, Ralok was certain that the Fae was going to slash his throat. He glared defiantly, determined to die well. Oddly, his thoughts turned to Enna. He hoped that she would make it to Avalon safely.

After several tense moments, Mathyn removed his hand from his dagger. "You have spirit," he remarked with a twist of his mouth. "I suppose that you are to be commended for that."

He gestured to his orcs. They reached down and pulled each of his men to their feet, twisting their bound hands behind their backs. None of them made a sound, despite their obvious pain. Dwarves did not beg for mercy.

Mathyn nodded to the orcs holding Ralok. Without warning, a large orcish fist sank into his gut. Ralok doubled over, wheezing. Desperately sucking air into his lungs, the dwarven prince struggled to stand straight. He could vaguely hear the muffled shouts and struggles of his men as they tried to free themselves to fight. "Fucking asshole," he ground out as soon as he could speak. "Afraid to deal with unbound dwarves?"

He was rewarded with a blow to the side of his face. His head snapped to the side and his ears rang with the force of the blow as he fell heavily to the ground. Forcing himself to his hands and knees, Ralok shook his head slowly, trying to clear the ringing in his ears. He spat into the snow beneath his head, leaving a scarlet spatter before he was once again hauled to his feet to face Mathyn. Still, he remained unbroken, staring daggers at the traitorous Fae.

Mathyn's eyebrows rose. Without a word, he nodded to the orcs who were standing around. With vicious grins they surrounded Ralok and began a systematic beating. Ralok did his best to block the blows as they fell, but there were simply too many.

One giant fist crashed into his face and he could hear the bones crunch as as they broke. Ralok staggered and fell to his knees, only to be knocked to the ground a moment later by the swinging cudgel of another orc as it connected with his jaw. Blood poured from his face as he curled into ball on the ground, trying to protect his head. Kick after kick landed, pummeling him back and forth, punctuated by the delighted grunts of the orcs who were tormenting him. One particularly hard blow to the kidneys caused him to arch his back in agony. He could no longer stay silent, screaming in pain and anger.

"Enough."

The orcs hauled him to his feet. He swayed between them as they turned him to face the Fae prince. With a cruel smile, Mathyn beckoned to one of the orcs holding the other dwarves. He pointed to the rope that was still connected to the tree. "Tie that around his neck and toss him over the cliff."

The other four captives started struggling again, but their attempts were useless. Ralok hung from the orcs grip, barely able to breath through the pain of what must surely have been broken ribs. He watched in horror as the dwarf was hauled toward the edge of the cliff.

"No." His voice was barely a whisper. His brain screamed at him to move, to fight, to save his comrade, but his body simply wouldn't obey. The orcs gave a cheer as the dwarf was hurled over the edge, the rope cinched about his neck. As the rope snapped tight, twanging in the frosty mountain air, Ralok moaned again.

"Shut up." The orc holding him jabbed him in the kidneys again.

White hot spasms shot around his torso. The pain was agonizing, but it served to clear his head. He glared fiercely at Mathyn. "You fucking bastard. You twisted, gods-cursed turncoat!"

Mathyn nodded again to the orc holding him. The orc swung his cudgel, connecting solidly with his groin.

The pain was blinding, intense, and sickening. The orcs holding him let go, causing Ralok to double over in pain, clutching the abused area. His legs gave way as a wave of nausea washed over him. Unable to help himself, Ralok heaved, spewing his breakfast over the snow.

"Ugh." Mathyn grimaced and backed away from the mess. "Pick him up."

Ralok was lifted between a pair of orcs once again. He hung limply in their grasp, unable to do more than draw ragged, shallow breaths.

Mathyn waved a hand at the other four dwarves. "Gut them and then slit their throats, but leave the leader for last."

A shot of terror raced through Ralok. He began to struggle, despite his injuries. One by one, his comrades were disemboweled, screaming and cursing before their throats were slit. The top of the cliff resembled a charnel house by the time the last of his companions lay still where they had fallen.

Still, Ralok fought his captors. Wild rage burned through him at the needless torture. 'Why!?" he raged. "Why like that? You couldn't even offer them a clean death?"

Mathyn laughed. "Because I could, and because I wanted to. I don't need any other justification."

"You are one gods damned, twisted bastard. I don't know why Rhiannon and Cieran ended up with such a sick freak as a son. The Fates know they didn't deserve it. Neither did Jareth."

"What the fuck do you know about my family!?" Mathyn screamed, suddenly raging. Spit flew from his lips. "My precious brother always got all the attention. He didn't deserve it. I should have been the first born, I deserve to have been the heir! I deserved it, not him!" His eyes burned with an insane fire and a dark aura appeared around him. The orcs surrounding him backed up several paces, their brutish faces nervous.

As the insane Fae approached, the orcs holding Ralok let him loose and backed up, just as the others had. Mathyn conjured a crystal, crackling with black and red energy.

"Jareth kept me from taking what was mine years ago, but you won't stop me now! You'll serve as an example. I'll show everyone what happens to those who thwart me."

Ralok watched as Mathyn threw the crystal at him. It seemed to approach him in slow motion. He tried to dodge it, but he couldn't make his body respond fast enough. It exploded against his shoulder as he was trying to turn away.

The power in the crystal crackled, lashing him with both heat and cold as it flowed over his body. His clothing burned away, leaving him completely exposed to the elements. The pain drove him to his knees once again, screaming incoherently.

Mathyn grinned maniacally. He pointed to the closest orc, practically shouting to be heard over the sound of Ralok's screams. "You! Go cut four stakes." The orc nodded and left quickly.

Mathyn glared at the naked, screaming dwarf, writhing in the red stained snow at his feet. "Shut him up, and make it quick. We have a rendezvous with the lovely Sarah."

Through the pain, Ralok heard the commands but never even saw what knocked him out cold.

He didn't know how long he was unconscious, but when he came to, he was lying flat on his back in the snow. The wind whipped over his body, driving snow crystals into his flesh; but he was already so cold he could barely feel it. His many injuries throbbed dully as he squinted at the sky, trying to figure out what time it was. Groaning, he tried to roll over. Only to find himself unable to move.

Painfully, he turned his head to see what was holding his arm outstretched. What the hell? He thought.

His arm was tied to a stake driven into the frozen ground. Further investigation revealed that all four limbs were similarly restrained. Ralok laughed bitterly. He had been prepared to die, even to die heinously as his men had. Yet here he was, naked as the day he was born, spread eagled, and staked out on the clifftop to die slowly of exposure. He squinted up at the sky. Ravens were already gathering above him and he swallowed hard. He might not die of exposure after all.

Enna had been right. His crazy plan was going to get him killed, just not the way she thought.. Ralok laughed weakly. The laugh quickly turned into a cough that sent pain burning through his torso. He turned his head, spitting blood. His eyes wandered to the dwarves that lay scattered in the snow around him. The sight of their dead faces, frozen in the midst of their curses and screams, caused Ralok to shut his eyes. It was all going to be for nothing. They had failed. All the dwarven prince could do now was wait for death to claim him.

Slowly, a dull tramping sound began to penetrate the fog of self pity that had overwhelmed him. At first, he ignored it, but the sound got louder while Ralok stirred painfully. It sounded like an army was passing close by.

His eyes shot open. The orcs were approaching the pass. His limbs were so cold that he no longer had any feeling in them. He could barely move his arms and legs and even breathing was beginning to get difficult.

Still, Ralok couldn't let go. He refused to give up- not while he still lived. He began jerking his arms, testing the strength of the stakes that held him pinned to the ground. The movement warmed his muscles, and the pain of his injuries, which had faded as his body slowly started to freeze, came roaring back to life. Ralok grimaced in agony but did not give up.

After what seemed like an interminable amount of time, he managed to wrench the stake that held his right arm clear out of the ground. The extra mobility made the broken ends of his ribs grate against one another and his hoarse cheer turned into a cry of pain. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Ralok rolled to the left and worked the other stake out of the ground. He then went to work on the ropes that bound his legs to the stakes.

Sitting was agony, but Ralok welcomed the pain. It kept him from slipping away.  _Just a little bit more_ _,_  he said to himself.  _Just a little longer and then you can rest_.

He tried to climb to his feet but he found that he couldn't. He lay panting in the snow, every nerve on fire. The sounds of the orcs moving through the pass drifted up from far below. _I have to set off the charges_ , he thought.

So, he crawled, slowly and painfull along the cliff, searching for the trip wires that each dwarf had brought to the top with him. He found his own easily enough, pressed into the snow by the weight of his body. He gripped it in his teeth and crawled slowly along the cliffs edge, heading north. He found only one other wire before his strength failed.

Ralok fought off the urge to sink into slumber. Even the physical exertion of crawling no longer pained him so much as his body slowly froze. He realized that he was starting to succumb to hypothermia, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. Awkwardly, he twisted the two wires together, moving slowly to avoid dropping them from his numb hands.

The plan had been to pay out enough line to get well back from the edge of the cliff before setting off the charges. There was always the possibility that the cliff would crumble away as he stood there to watch the charges going off. Ralok had neither the strength nor inclination to do so. What did it matter after all? He was already dead; his mind just hadn't accepted it yet. There was no way he would survive the night on the mountain, even freed from his bindings.

He looked down at the orcs, hate burning in his gaze. "Better to die like this than wait to freeze," he muttered. Closing his eyes, he sent a spark of magic into the wire that he held, praying to the Fates that it would be enough to block the pass.

As the charges detonated, they set off a chain reaction. Snow and loose rock all along the eastern side of the pass began to tumble and slide to the bottom of the cliff with a roar, obliterating everything in its path.

Ralok watched with satisfaction as the avalanche he started buried the orcs below under tonnes of snow and rocks. As the rumbling echoes died away, Ralok collapsed, welcoming the oblivion that would bring an end to his pain.

* * *

Viggu sat in silence, watching the small rodent scamper through the debris on the floor. He would have to be very clever and very quiet. He muttered constantly to himself as he waited for the small animal to move closer to where he was crouched against the wall in the darkest corner of the oubliette. "Come on then, just a little closer. Yeah, that's it, come closer to poor Viggu. Viggu will take care of you."

A stab of pain shot through the ankle that he had broken when he fell into this place, and the small orc shifted his weight slightly. His knee cracked, sending the rodent scurrying away with a frightened squeak. "No ya don't!"

Viggu lunged, his hands outstretched to grasp his prey. His hands closed around a soft, furry body and he squeal in triumph. "Gotcha!"

With cruel economy, Viggu twisted the rats neck. He then shuffled, limping on his bad leg, over to the small pool of water. Crouching at the edge, he ripped noisily into the rat, snuffling and slavering as he ate his first meal in several days. Suddenly, he stopped and looked up.

He sniffed. The scent of the Bog was returning. "Yer back," he remarked.

There was no reply.

"So? I's gots ta eat… Well, maybe if ya were ta help me out 'stead uh-" A small tremor shook his prison and Viggu shrieked.

"Ok, ok!" He was silent for a while, his head cocked to the side and his eyes unfocused. After a minute, he shrugged and resumed eating his rat. Gulping down the last of it and slurping on its tail. He swallowed noisily, grunting, "What do I care 'bout kings and caretakers?"

Silence greeted his question.

"Only if ya help me kill that damn Nyxie!" Viggu's shout echoed off the walls of his prison. "Bah!"

Viggu windmilled his arms in irritation and shuffled about the oubliette, muttering incoherently. After a while he sat down again. The smell stayed with him, sometimes intensifying and sometimes fading, but never quite disappearing entirely.

"Kill the Goblin King ya say. All well's and good, but ya don' wanna offer me no help in killin' the ones Viggu wants to kill. No. Ya just waft in 'ere makin' yer demands an thinkin' I'll jus' obey. Got Viggu in trouble last time, it did. Not gonna do that again. Nope. An' the Sarah girl- everyone lookin' fer 'er. Thought he was supposed ta get 'er." Viggu chuckled. "Guess he lost 'er. Bet that's eatin' him up. Bet he weren't happy!"

He breathed in the stench of the Bog, relaxing in the familiar smell. Where once he had feared and hated it, he now reveled in it, for it was the one thing that connected him to the world outside the oubliette. It was his lifeline... and his constant companion.

Suddenly, Viggu's eyes popped open, bugging out of his thin face. His mouth opened wide in a look of surprise and excitement. "Maybe the Goblin King killed 'im already! That why ya won't help Viggu kill the Empty man? He dead already?"

A low key sound filled the oubliette. It was like a gravelly voice whispered hoarsely without words. Viggu didn't seem to have any trouble making it out, however. He bared his fangs as his face clouded with disappointment, and he began to rock back and forth.

"How's I ta know he was yours? Nobody tells me nothin' Poor, poor Viggu. All alone. Forgotten and lost. No one cares for Viggu." The orc began to weep, filling the small stone space with horrible whistling and slobbering sounds.

Another tremor shook the orcs prison. One of the walls crumbled away, revealing a passage beyond, choked with dust and debris. Viggu bellowed in fear, tears and snot running down his face as he stared at the opening beyond.

"Stoppit! Stoppit! Them's my walls! I need 'em"

The tremor stopped. The smell once more intensified, hovering in the air around the trapped orc.

Slowly, Viggu shuffled toward the opening and peeked out. Freedom sat just a few feet away, but he whimpered in terror and scuttled back away from it, scattering fallen bits of masonry as he went.

"Not goin' Ya won't go with me, so I'm not goin'. Safe here. Viggu safe in here."

Viggu patted the walls, reassuring himself that they were still there, as he huddled in the far corner away from the collapsed wall. The ghastly whispering returned. Viggu listened quietly for a moment before starting to shake. He clapped his hands over his ears and shook his head violently from side to side.

"No-no-no-no! Not goin'. Won't go. Not safe out there, Viggu stayin' here. Don' care who ya want me ta kill. Don' care, don' care, don' care!"

The smell of the Bog, which had been so strong as to nearly burn his nostrils, started to fade. Viggu began to whimper at the loss, blubbering and crying and wiping his running nose on his ratty leather sleeve.

"Don' go," he wailed piteously. "Don' leave Viggu all 'lone again."

His cries notwithstanding, the smell faded out of existence once more. Viggu sniffled and moaned, still begging for the return of the stench until he fell asleep hours later. Not once did he so much as glance in the direction of freedom.

* * *

The maids whispered amongst themselves as they moved quietly through the Queen's apartments. Despite the bright, sunny day outside the drapes remained closed, enshrouding the room in a dim twilight. The Queen no longer paid much attention to things like that.

"Majesty?" Shaylee's lady's maid stood behind the Queen as she stared, expressionless, at her reflection in the mirror. Shaylee did not reply; so the maid tried again. "Majesty, shall I begin with your hair?

Shaylee merely stared straight ahead, giving no indication that she even heard the gentle prodding of her maid. This was no longer a surprise to Shaylee's personal staff.

Every morning for the last week, the maids entered the room to find Shaylee still in bed, staring at the elaborately embroidered canopy above her head. They would urge her to get up and sit her in front of her morning meal, which they had to coax her to eat. After her meal, they would sit her at her vanity. It was the same routine she had always followed, but now, she seemed incapable of doing any of it of her own volition.

The maid picked up a hairbrush and began to brush her queen's thinning hair. Shaylee made no comment, even when the brush caught on a snarl that must have pulled painfully. The old Shaylee would have been screaming abuse at the slightest pull. Now, she barely grunted when the brush caught. The lady's maid glanced nervously at her fellow staff members. There was something terribly wrong with the Fairy Queen.

Shaylee watched without expression as her maid brushed and styled her hair and then proceeded to apply her cosmetics.

One of the maids dropped the vase full of flowers that she was carrying. It fell to the polished floor, shattering everywhere and splashing everything around it with water. The sudden crash caused the maid who was applying Shaylee's eyeliner to jump. Every eye in the room turned fearfully to the Queen, expecting that she would scream in outrage. Instead of a neat line, a large black streak ran across Shaylee's temple. They expected her usual outburst, but there was nothing. She simply didn't react at all.

Shaylee's behavior was having a detrimental effect on her staff. They were frightened and skittish, not knowing what was happening.

"What is happening to her?" One maid whispered to the one cleaning up the broken shards of the vase.

"I have no idea. I was told it was some sort of illness, although the Fates know I've never seen anything like this."

The maid who had spoken first shuddered and watched as Shaylee's lady's maid scrubbed off the offending eyeliner and reapplied it. "She don't seem to care about anything; it's like her body is there, but her mind is gone." She held out the basin that held the shattered remains of the vase.

The other maid placed the last bits of the vase into the basin, glancing around at the queen as she did so. "I know. The only person who can get her to react at all is Lord Gethin. Even then, it's not so much that she's reactin' as just agreein' with everything he says. And, you know, Marta, even when she talks, there's no life in her eyes."

Marta ran a wet cloth over the floor to pick up the tiny shards of the vase that were scattered about. "I don't know, as I've not seen her talk since this fit came over her. The way she sits and stares is creepy enough if you ask me." Both maids glanced in the direction of the Queen with a shiver.

Another maid looked up, her hands full of dripping flowers that she had rescued from the floor. "Count yourself lucky and keep your head down," she cautioned Marta. "Lord Gethin isn't taking too kindly to all the rumors flying about. Just yesterday I saw 'im actually strike a scullery maid for speakin' out of turn. Spent a good five minutes yellin' at her to mind 'er place and keep 'er nose out of what don't concern 'er." The maids all looked at each other, eyes wide.

The lady's maid came bustling over. "You three had better get out of here with that mess. His Lordship said he would be visiting her Majesty earlier than usual today." With that, all three of the chatty maids gathered the remains of the vase and flowers and fled the room.

The rest of Shaylee's maids finished tidying her room and clothed her in a simple dressing gown. It was a garment that she would have rejected as being too simple for a visit from Gethin last week, but was now ideal for her current state. When they were finished, they led her to her armchair, pushing her down into the seat and turning it to face the window.

Despite their best efforts, they could plainly see that Shaylee was not getting any better. She was getting rather worse. Her eyes were sunken while her skin was starting to turn sallow. Her hands had even begun to tremble slightly, as though she were a much older woman.

Her lady's maid tried one more time to engage her attention. "Your Majesty?" She knelt down beside the chair and placed a hand on her queen's cheek, turning her head so that Shaylee was facing her. "Your Majesty, is there anything else I can get for you?"

Shaylee blinked but did not respond. After a moment, the maid sighed and released her hold on the Fairy Queen. Shaylee's head slowly turned until she was once more looking blankly out the window. The lady's maid glanced over her shoulder. Everyone else had already left the room, anxious to be away from their Queen and her unsettling illness.

"Shaylee!" she hissed, hoping to shock her into some sort of action by using her given name.

Nothing.

She tried again, speaking louder and reaching out to shake the Fairy Queen as she did so. "Shaylee! You have to snap out of it. The kingdom needs you!" Shaylee's head snapped back and forth slightly and a bit of drool slipped from the corner of her mouth, but there was still no response. No animation lit her features, and her eyes remained dull and empty.

Gently, the maid wiped the saliva from Shaylee's chin. She shook her head sadly. She would have to get the healers in here again. There had to be something they could do to bring Shaylee back. The maid left the room, leaving her Queen staring straight ahead, uncaring of anything passing before her eyes.

Shaylee was still in the chair when the maid returned, hours later.


	27. Heartache

**Disclaimer -**  Sadly, I do not own or profit from any of the characters featured in The Labyrinth. While I don't profit from my original characters, I do own them, if any writer can actually be said to "own" their characters anyway.

A/N - Alrighty, a slightly less dark chapter here. My apologies for going silent for so long. Real Life kicks my ass every few months and I don't get a chance to work on this as much as I want. I do have 4 kids, after all!

My thanks to all of my lovely beta readers (you know who you are) who gave this chapter the once over for me and helped me get through some rough patches in writing. Jareth really gave me trouble when it came to chatting with his mother.

This chapter has not had its usual stringent editing for spelling and grammar. Drop me a PM or something if you see any problems!

**Warning**  - If you're still here after the last chapter, then there isn't anything in this that is going to bother you, Lol.

* * *

Jareth stood on the top step of the castle, looking out over the Goblin City. The falling snow obscured his vision and he muttered a curse under his breath. He didn't understand why Belinda insisted on driving through the Labyrinth and the city in a sled when she could have simply stepped through one of the portals into his arrival hall. There was no need for everyone to be standing outside, freezing, while they awaited the arrival of the future queen.

Jareth swayed slightly as he stood. He found that he had to expend an unbelievable amount of magic to keep the Labyrinth in check while Belinda and her party rode through the passage he had opened for them. He didn't understand why the Labyrinth was so intent on keeping them out. Instead of focusing its energy on the decay that he could feel starting to nibble at the defenses he had put into place earlier, the Labyrinth kept expending magic throwing challenges in front of what it felt were intruders, despite Jareth's stern orders to the contrary.

As he held the Labyrinth at bay, he couldn't help but remember the way the Labyrinth had reacted to Sarah as opposed to Belinda. Even before Sarah had beaten the Great Maze, it had welcomed her, wrapping it's protective energy around her as she navigated through it. He suspected that it had even gone so far as to subtly aid her in her quest, although he had no proof of that. Still, the reaction of the Labyrinth to Sarah was a far cry from the open hostility it was displaying now.

He swayed again as he thwarted yet another attempt to stop the progress of his betrothed. Behind him, Mishal gripped his shoulder, steadying his king. Jareth had refused to meet his Belinda sitting down. Although he did not wish to marry her, he would not be so discourteous.

At his side, Diona glanced up at him, her forehead creased with worry. "Jareth-"

He cut her off with a growl. "I'm fine."

In truth, he was utterly exhausted, and today's strange resistance from the Labyrinth wasn't helping. Each day, he spent hours channeling magic into the Labyrinth, repairing the damage that had been done the night before. Despite the cold temperatures, he never failed finish drenched in sweat and steaming in the cold air. Several times he had burned himself badly because he sank too deeply into what he was doing. He had taken to having several people, including his chief healer, Alex, standing by to handle the effects of his excessive magic use. Even so, it was beginning to take a toll on his body. He was thin and haggard. The energy it took to control the massive flow of magic was rapidly burning up his reserves. Worse, his nerve endings, flayed raw by the overstimulation, were highly sensitive, leaving him in a constant state of slight discomfort that was sure to worsen.

Jareth breathed a sigh of relief when the sled carrying Belinda finally entered the Goblin City. Now that she was finally within the city walls, he could release his tight grip on the Labyrinth. After several more minutes of watching the snow drift down around them, the muffled sound of hooves striking the snow covered street reached the group at the doors. Slowly, a sled came into view, flanked by a rider on horseback. Jareth started down the stairs, arriving at the bottom just as the sled slid to a stop.

"Belinda, welcome to the Castle Beyond the Goblin City." Jareth bowed stiffly.

Belinda lowered the hood that had protected her from the snow on her ride through the city. "Jareth! I am so glad to finally be able to visit my future home," she said with a smile. Jareth was taken aback by the warmth in her voice. She had never spoken to him with so much animation and interest before. He winced. He had been counting on Belinda's indifference to make severing the betrothal easier.

The rider that had flanked the sled dismounted, leather armor creaking in the cold. The figure tossed the reins to a groom who had come forward to handle the horses and turned to the sled. "Shall I help you out of the sled, My Lady?"

With a start Jareth realized that the figure was female. Until she spoke, he had assumed the rider was male. He had taken her for a man at arms, probably sent by Lord Gethin to assure his daughters safety on her journey.

"No, I think that Jareth is perfectly capable of doing so."

Jareth quirked an eyebrow but acceded to Belinda's wishes. Stepping up to the side of the sled, he offered her his hand as she alighted. Jareth watched her take in her surroundings. He saw her note the snow covered houses with their fringes of icicles, and the empty, snow covered streets.

She turned back to him and Jareth couldn't read her expression. "Where is everyone, Jareth?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said, where is everyone? I expected that the citizens would be out to greet me. The arrival of a new Queen isn't an everyday occurrence, especially in this kingdom." She pouted slightly but Jareth wasn't fooled. Her eyes betrayed her anger at the simplicity of her reception.

He had to take a deep breath and remind himself that Belinda was not familiar with the way things worked in the Goblin Kingdom. She was used to the pomp and circumstance of the Fairy Court, where Shaylee couldn't even eat a meal without fanfare.

"My apologies," he said trying his best to disguise his irritation. He swept a hand up, indicating the falling snow. "The weather, as you see, has been poor for some time. Most of the citizens are either in their homes or about their business. I'm afraid that I have been rather too busy to organize a more spectacular welcome for your initial arrival. I had also assumed that you would be rather fatigued."

Belinda scowled at him, but only for a moment. The next moment her face was wreathed with a smile once more. "Of course, Jareth. How silly of me. I shouldn't have expected you to have had so much planned. I know how busy you've been of late, and I can see that you are rather tired." She stepped closer to him than was strictly necessary, placing a hand on his arm.

Jareth cleared his throat uncomfortably. Her behavior was unexpected. Up until now, she had not made much effort to capture his affections. It was, however, far too late for such attempts. Jareth was no longer interested in anything other than ending this unwanted betrothal as quickly as possible.

To cover his dismay, he turned and led her toward the group gathered at the top of the stairs to meet her. "Let me introduce you to some of my court."

Jareth presented Belinda to Diona who looked at the young woman with a sharp gaze. "The Lady Diona, Revered Priestess of the Croí Foinse, Mother Superior of Foinse Abbey, and Advisor to the High Council in Fialis."

"It is nice to meet you, child." Diona said as Belinda curtseyed low before her. "Welcome to the Goblin Kingdom."

"Revered Priestess," Belinda murmured, keeping her eyes downcast.

Diona gestured to Naida, who stood by her side, warmly wrapped against the cold, her damp hair just beginning to dry out. "This is first novitiate Naida."

Belinda raised a brow at being introduced to a mere novitiate but nodded politely. Jareth grinned as he watched Naida just barely manage not to curtsy before the noblewoman, remembering her new rank just in time.

"A pleasure," the rusalka murmured, returning the stiff nod that Belinda gave her.

Jareth beckoned Alex forward. The healer approached silently, hands tucked into the ample sleeves of the robes that all healers wore. "This is my chief healer, Alex Hawthorne."

Alex bowed slightly. "My Lady Belinda, welcome to the Castle Beyond the Goblin City. I trust that you are well after your journey?"

Belinda nodded politely.

"Excellent. Should you need anything, I would be delighted to attend to you in the medical wing."

"I am quite well, thank you." She sniffed, clearly dismissing the healer from her notice. Taking the hint, Alex faded into the background once more.

Jareth turned stiffly, trying hard not to think of how differently Sarah would have handled all of these introductions. "This is Mishal, my personal secretary," he said, indicating the young man with fiery red hair that stood to the side, watching the introductions with stiff shoulders.

Mishal stepped forward and bowed again. "My Lady, it is a delight to have you here." His practiced manner gave little hint of his true feelings, but Jareth caught the edge in his voice that indicated that the half ifrit secretary was anything but delighted. "His Majesty has instructed me to provide you with anything you need. I am to be your liaison with the rest of the staff until you have chosen your own personal household here in the Goblin Kingdom. Your belongings have already arrived and are being transferred to your rooms as we speak."

Belinda nodded curtly but didn't bother to reply to Mishal's courteous little speech. Instead she looked around. "Where is General Ethan, Jareth? I was so looking forward to meeting your oldest friend."

Jareth cleared his throat awkwardly. "The General is out on maneuvers at the moment, Belinda. We hope that he will return within the next few weeks."

"Oh? What sort of maneuvers?"

"Nothing that you need worry about," Jareth said impatiently. He stepped away from her and gestured toward the castle. "Shall we?"

She took his arm, clasping it against her chest and looked up at him through her lashes. "Will you give me a tour, Jareth?"

He cleared his throat uncomfortably but was saved from the trouble of making a reply by Mishal. "Actually, my Lady, the King has pressing business to attend to in the Labyrinth itself. I have been given the pleasure of giving you a grand tour of the castle and grounds." Mishal bowed low to the future Goblin Queen as he spoke.

"Oh, Jareth, don't pawn me off on some lackey!"

She pouted up at him and Jareth fought the urge to groan. She was worse than he had feared she would be. He shot a glance at Mishal, who looked unruffled, despite her insult. Mishal's face betrayed nothing of his feelings, but Jareth knew him well enough by now to know that his personal secretary would be highly annoyed. There was a small spark, buried deep in the young man's eyes that warned of his anger, tightly controlled though it was.

Jareth looked back down at his betrothed. "I apologize, Belinda, but as Mishal said, the work I am doing in the Labyrinth is quite urgent. I'm sure that he and the Lady Diona will be quite as entertaining as I could have been, probably more so." He tried to smile at her, but couldn't quite manage to make it sincere.

The weather chose that moment to worsen. The wind picked up, driving the snow before it and turning the flakes into stinging needles that lashed the exposed skin of the group. Everyone shivered and moved toward the doors, seeking the warmth of the Castle.

As they entered the Castle, Jareth watched Belinda take in his home for the first time. Although she hid it well, he could tell that she wasn't pleased with what she saw. He looked around, trying to see it through her eyes.

The Castle Beyond the Goblin City was nothing like what she was used to in the Fairy Kingdom. There were no airy spires and graceful arches here. Jareth's home was a fortress, a last line of defense for the Croí Foinse, and the architecture reflected that. The heavy stonework was meant to be able to withstand the pounding of siege engines. Even the layout- the entrance hall with numerous alcoves and hidden murder holes, the twisting corridors, confusing passages, and numerous choke points - it was all built with an eye for defense rather than beauty.

When the group entered the throne room, Jareth was somewhat surprised to see that someone was seated in his throne. Instantly, he bowed low before her.

"Mother."

The rest of the party followed suit as Queen Rhiannon smiled graciously. "Hello, Jareth."

Jareth stood, "I had not expected you for several more days."

"I decided that I wanted to be here to welcome my future daughter in law to her new home." Rhiannon stood and made her way toward them. "My apologies for co-opting your throne."

Jareth waved a gloved hand. "It's fine, mother." He smiled his first genuine smile of the day as he embraced the High Queen. "You are more than welcome in my kingdom any time you wish to grace my halls. We are all enriched by your presence."

"That will do, Jareth." Rhiannon said with a laugh.

As the rest of the party came forward to offer their greetings, Jareth stood back and watched as Rhiannon greeted Belinda. He noted that neither woman seemed particularly impressed with the other. His mother, in particular, seemed slightly cold, despite her veneer of warmth. Jareth doubted that Belinda was aware of Rhiannon's underlying coldness. His mother had far too much experience at Court to allow any but her closest friends and family to see her true feelings until it suited her.

With his mother and his betrothed occupied, Jareth allowed his mind and eyes to wander. He was momentarily distracted by Belinda's bodyguard. The woman had removed her helmet, revealing neatly cropped brownish hair and a nose that had been broken at least once. She was glaring at him with undisguised animosity.

When she realized that he had seen her, she looked away quickly. Jareth wondered what her problem was but quickly dismissed her when Belinda turned to him.

"Jareth, dear. Can't you at least stay and have tea with us before you return to your duties?"

With a sigh, Jareth checked on the Labyrinth. His fences were still holding for the moment, thanks to the work he had done earlier, but it wouldn't be long before they failed.

"As long as we sit down directly, I can probably spare twenty minutes or so," he said reluctantly.

Belinda pouted. "Only twenty minutes!?"

Rhainnon looked worried. "Is it truly so bad?"

Jareth shot her a look and shook his head slightly, indicating that he did not want to discuss it in their present company. Rhiannon gave the tiniest of nods, just enough to let him know that she understood his meaning and turned to Belinda, a small smile on her face.

"Come, my dear. Let us head for the drawing room. It is so much better to take tea there than in this drafty throne room."

Belinda's eyes grew hard but she nodded and strolled out of the room beside the High Queen. Jareth trailed after them, thinking about how much different this meeting could have gone if it had been Sarah instead of Belinda that they were welcoming.

Thoughts of Sarah led to worry about whether Ethan had actually found her. Despite his best efforts, he had not been able to reach her in dreams for more than a week. Every time he thought he was getting close to her, he found himself standing alone in utter darkness. He didn't know what it meant, and he was starting to doubt his conclusions. Perhaps Sarah was not with the centaurs. Perhaps the dreams really had been a product of his own unfulfilled longing for her. Jareth just didn't know anymore. It was entirely possible that he had sent Ethan and some of his most hardened troops out onto the winter plains for nothing.

As he settled himself in an armchair opposite his mother and Belinda, who shared a loveseat, Jareth tried to banish his misgivings. He had a great many problems here at home without borrowing trouble unnecessarily. As a Hobgoblin maid brought tea, Jareth struggled to attend to the polite chatter of the ladies, but found his mind constantly drawn back to either Sarah's fate or the slowly building threat to the Labyrinth.

* * *

The wind driven snow snuck in through the cracks in the constantly swaying wagon. Samoth tucked the blankets more securely around Sarah and watched anxiously as she began to mutter on her cushioned pallet once more.

Shivering in the cold he leaned closer, trying to catch what she was saying, but it was unintelligible. With a sigh, he sat back and wondered how far they had managed to travel. It had been six days since they had left the Henge. Each day, traveling conditions worsened as they moved further and further north. Snow and ice plagued their caravan as they struggled to onward, forced to travel as far and as often as possible to avoid getting bogged down.

Samoth settled back down next to Sarah, wrapping his own blankets more securely around himself in a vain attempt to keep warm. His breath steamed as he sighed. If Sarah was starting to come around, then it wouldn't be long before he and the others would be required to take steps to keep her power contained and Sarah herself unconscious. They'd had to do this at increasingly short intervals since they left the Henge. The chief healer had even begun making herbal compounds designed to keep Sarah unconscious for longer and longer in an effort to keep both her and her power quiescent.

As the wagon trundled across the plains, Sarah began to mutter once more, tossing and turning.

"Jareth… I don- …please… nev- … need… aaaah!" Her mutterings petered out with a cry of pain as she twisted in her blankets, fighting the magic that was starting to rise within her as she slowly regained consciousness.

Samoth reached over and rapped on the door of the wagon. After a moment, Adelina opened the door a crack and stuck her head in, letting in a cloud of stinging ice pellets.

"Yes, Elder?"

"Would you please fetch the healers? It's almost time," he said quietly.

Adelina looked unhappy. "So soon?"

Samoth nodded, his heart sinking. "I'm afraid so. We may have to up her dose of Valerian and Skullcap. She's coming out of it faster and faster as the magic burns through her body."

Adelina pursed her lip and disappeared, pushing the door shut firmly as she left. Samoth went back to keeping watch over Sarah.

As soon as her eyelids began to flutter, Samoth launched into the calming incantations that seemed to help her cope with the stress, both magical and emotional that she was experiencing.

"...Jareth…" she breathed, momentarily going still.

Then her eyes snapped open and her body went rigid. Samoth placed a hand on her forehead and increased the flow of calming magic into her, hoping to keep her as placid as possible until they could put her under once more.

Her face contorted in pain and tears slipped from her eyes, trailing over her temples and into her dark hair. "That bastard," she whispered hoarsely.

"It's going to be alright, Sarah."

Her eyes grew hard and she stared through Samoth without seeing him. "He didn't say anything... He was promised to another the whole time but he didn't- he didn't say anything!" her voice broke and she sobbed. "He- he came to me... in my dreams… told me he was coming for me... he made me- he made me believe...

Her eyes blazed as the magic welled within her, drying her tears instantly. She screamed in agony and rage, thrashing from side to side so hard that the wagon rocked with her movements. Desperately, Samoth redoubled his efforts with the incantation. Outside he could hear the alarmed cries and pounding hooves as the others approached the wagon.

The door was yanked open and a voice yelled, "Quick, get her out of there, we have to get her sedated again. Hands reached in and pulled the pallet, with Sarah writhing on top of it, out into the bitterly cold wind.

Samoth clambered stiffly down from the wagon behind her. He hobbled up to the group of centaurs now encircling Sarah, chanting the same calming incantation that Samoth had. Seeing that the others had Sarah well under control, Samoth approached the chief healer as she mixed the herbal concoction that would force Sarah back into unconsciousness.

"She came out of it even more quickly than before," the centaur woman said, her tone noncommittal.

Samoth sighed heavily. "I think we are going to have to increase her dosage again."

The chief healer made an irritated sound. "We need to start giving her poppy, Samoth."

The Elder's eyes widened. It wasn't like the Chief Healer to throw propriety to the wind and use his given name like that. He considered her suggestion. It was dangerous. Poppy was addictive, and very strong.

"Just the poppy tincture, or in combination with the valerian and skullcap?"

The woman paused briefly before answering. "Let's just switch to the poppy to start with. If we can dull her pain enough, then perhaps she won't regain her senses as quickly." She took a quick breath before turning to face Samoth. "Combining the poppy and the valerian mixture is a last resort. After we take that step, there's nothing else we can give her. All we can do after that is increase the dosage."

Samoth nodded his face bleak. "How far have we come?"

"Not far enough."

Samoth's shoulders slumped as he gestured for the Chief Healer to preceed him to Sarah's side. As he watched the others minister to his adopted granddaughter, he thought about what Sarah had said in her delirium. There was something about it that bothered him.

Suddenly he whirled around, his eyes wide. "Rogan!" he yelled.

Rogan cantered around from the far side of the wagon. "Yes, Elder?"

"Send out scouts. Sarah has been dreamwalking. She was in contact with the Goblin King and he may know where she is. If this is true, than it is likely that he has either sent someone to find her or come himself. We must not be missed in this weather!"

Rogan nodded but did not immediately leave. "We are being tracked."

This brought the Elder up short. "Tracked? By who?"

Rogan stamped a hoof in irritation. "We don't know. I've been sending out scouts periodically to check for the quickest route through the snowdrifts. Yesterday, one of the scouts swore to me that they had seen campfires on the horizon as night fell. I sent a group to investigate and they have just returned with news of an abandoned campsite."

Samoth's breath caught in his throat. "How many?"

Rogan's eyes were serious as he stared at the Elder. "Too many," he answered quietly.

Samoth paused for a moment. "Very well, inform everyone. Start keeping watch- day and night! We must move faster. We are still too far from the Goblin Kingdom."

Ronan nodded and whirled to carry out the Elder's orders. Samoth returned to Sarah. She was unconscious once more, and being loaded into the wagon. He swept the horizon with his gaze, trying to judge their progress across the snow covered and featureless plains. After several fruitless minutes, he sighed and climbed into the wagon. He had barely settled himself inside when the wagon started off again with a lurch.

As the wagon picked up speed, Samoth considered all of the new information he had just received. As he mulled over events, he began to see the shape of the storm to come. He could only just glimpse the edges of the brewing trouble, but it was coming, and quickly. Samoth sighed again. All he could do for the moment was travel onward and hope for the best.

* * *

Ethan brought his horse to a stop and held up a hand to halt the column. The elite units that had accompanied him onto the plains, one mixed cavalry and the other of Hobgoblin foot soldiers, came to a stop. The general scanned the horizon, looking for any signs of life in the frozen wasteland around them. They had been riding for nearly a week, crisscrossing back and forth in the hopes of running into the centaurs that Naida had insisted were going to be heading in their direction. They had seen no sign of anyone, centaur or otherwise.

"This is a fool's errand," Ethan muttered to himself. He didn't want to have to ride all the way to the Henge in search of a woman he was sure was a threat to his King and Kingdom. His grip tightened on the reigns and his horse danced nervously, aware that its rider was not giving an order, but anxious nonetheless. It snorted, a cloud of steam bursting from its nostrils.

"Easy." Ethan soothed, patting the horse's neck. Behind him, he could hear the uneasy shifting of his men, both those mounted and the ones on foot. This was no weather to be standing still in. Although there was no snow falling at the moment, it was bitterly cold. The wind picked up the frozen particles and whipped them around, driving them painfully into any exposed flesh. It was best to keep moving.

He turned and squinted to the horizon on his left. Dark clouds loomed, indicating that another storm was on the way. Ethan grunted and shrugged, knowing that there was nothing he could do about it.

Facing forward again, he scanned the horizon one last time. His attention was caught by movement in the distance and he stood up in stirrups, shading his eyes against the glare of the sun reflecting off the snow covered plains. He squinted, struggling to pick out the tiny black specks that moved against the background of the snow laden plains.

"There's something up ahead!" he called back to his troops. "Be on alert! This could be the centaurs we've been looking for, or it could be trouble. Be ready for trouble!"

As one the troops saluted him, bringing their right fists to the chests. They did not reply, however. A reply could be heard by an enemy. These were some of the best troops the Goblin Kingdom had to offer, after all.

"Move out!" Ethan commanded. Clucking to his horse, he shook the reigns. Obediently, the well trained warhorse set off, his gait moving swiftly from a walk to a trot as they headed in the direction of the unknown travelers.

Some time later, Ethan and his men ran into an an advance scout. The centaur seemed to come from out of nowhere, rising up from between two snow covered hills like a snowdrop pushing through the snow.

"Stay where you are and state your business!" The centaur called, drawing his bow smoothly and training the arrow on Ethan.

Ethan held up a hand to halt his men once more. Holding his hands out in a gesture of peace he called out, "I am General Ethan of the Goblin Kingdom! Jareth sent me to meet up with the party traveling ot the Goblin Kingdom! If such a party exists," he added in an undertone.

The centaur immediately lowered his bow and came forward."Thank the wind and sky, General Ethan! Elder Samoth said you'd be out looking for us, but I didn't really believe it." He stowed his arrow and smiled at Ethan. "I'm Clan Leader Rogan."

Ethan's eyebrows shot up. It was unusual for a Clan Leader to take on the duties of a scout.

Rogan laughed, clearly interpreting his expression correctly. "I know, it's unusual for me to be doing this but... well, when Sarah gets bad-"

Ethan cut him off, his eyes wide with shock. "The gir- Lady Sarah is with you?" Although he had been told that Sarah was with the centaurs, he'd had his doubts. Ever the pragmatic soldier, Ethan believed little he could not understand. Visions, like prophecies, were an unknown for him, and therefore to be treated with utmost suspicion.

Rogan narrowed his eyes. "Of course. What else do you think we're doing up here in all this snow and ice, making snow dwarves?"

"Of course not," Ethan assured him, regaining at least some of his composure. "Shall we?"

Ethan signaled to his horse again and Rogan fell perfectly into step with the large animal. "In truth, I am glad to see you," Rogan told him quietly as they headed for the rest of the caravan. "Our scouts have come across more than one indication that we are being followed."

"Followed?" Ethan glanced sharply at Rogan, who nodded.

"It's a big group," he said in an undertone. "We aren't sure what they want, but we've surmised that they are here for Sarah. There's no other reason for them to be following us, unless they plan on assassinating Elder Samoth."

Ethan whipped around to stare at Rogan. "The Elder is with you as well!? Take me to him!" Ethan's mouth was set in a grim line as Rogan wordlessly sped up, leading the way back to the caravan.

When they galloped up to the slow moving caravan, every centaur present raised a drawn bow until Rogan shouted the all clear. Then every bow was withdrawn and they went back to scanning the horizon carefully. Ethan was impressed at their discipline.

"These are some of your best warriors?" he asked Rogan as they approached the lead caravan.

Rogan let out a short bark of laughter. "Hardly. These are some of our youngest, mostly friends of Sarah who insisted on escorting her back to the Goblin Kingdom. They refused to be left behind."

Ethan scowled. Once again Sarah demonstrated her influence over people. Why wouldn't anyone else consider the possibility that she was a threat? He ground his teeth but forced his expression to remain bland. "Elder Samoth travels without the protection of the best warriors in the Clans? Most unusual."

Rogan turned sharply to Ethan, his voice hard. "Don't misunderstand, General. These may be some of our youngest warriors, but they have the potential to be as deadly as our more experienced ones, for all that they are unblooded. Centaurs begin training with their weapons the moment they can hold them. Each and every one of these young centaurs would give their lives in the defense of the Elder and his adopted granddaughter."

His eyes bored into Ethan and the General cleared his throat in embarrassment, looking away. His eyes snapped back to the Clan Leader when his last words registered in his mind. "The Elder adopted her!?"

Rogan's eyes grew wide at the exclamation and he made a hurried shushing motion with his hands. He shook his head and indicated the caravan. Ethan had not noticed the Elder climbing stiffly down the ramp that had been lowered for him. As Ethan watched the Elder step carefully to the ground, another scout ran up, briefly saluted Rogan and began a low conversation with the Clan leader.

Ethan clamped his mouth shut but refused to feel bad for his outburst. He bowed from the saddle as the Elder approached, smiling warmly.

"General Ethan! I am delighted that you have found us at last! We've been expecting you for several days now."

Ethan blinked. "How could you possibly know that we've been out here looking for you?"

Samoth smiled. "Sarah. She has apparently been dream walking with Jareth. When she said that Jareth told her he would come for her, I knew that someone from the Goblin Kingdom would be out here, even if it wasn't Jareth himself. Although," Samoth continued, glancing briefly back at the caravan he had been traveling in, "I had rather hoped that it would be Jareth who found us. Sarah needs him."

Ethan scowled. This account gave credence to Jareth and Diona's assertions. So far, everything that he'd found out in the last few minutes corroborated the information he'd been given in the Castle Beyond the Goblin City. Still, Ethan was a stubborn man, it would take more than a few coincidences to sway him from his belief that Sarah was a danger to his King and his kingdom.

Rather than offend the Elder with his answer, Ethan compressed his lips into a tight line before changing the subject. "I hear that you are being followed, any idea who or what is tracking you?"

Samoth looked slightly confused at the abrupt change in topic but could only shrug. It was Rogan who unexpectedly provided the answer.

"Orcs." His voice was flat and his eyes were stony as he paced restlessly toward them. "Scouts just reported back. They finally picked up some clear tracks a day or two behind us. They also found this."

Rogan held out a frozen tangle of leather straps attached to a single stone. The stone had been carefully chiseled into a sphere. A hole had been drilled through the center of the sphere, allowing a leather thong to pass through the heavy stone. It took Ethan a moment to recognize the snarled mess as the remains of a bola.

They stood in silence for a few moments, each contemplating the implications of the news. Ethan knew that the open plains in the middle of winter were no place for a pitched battle, particularly if they were facing a well armed group of orcs wielding bola's. The weapon would allow the orcs to cripple centaurs and horses alike at a distance. He glanced around, assessing their numbers. He couldn't be sure of the number or strength of the centaur force, but he knew that his own troops were enough to take on a decent number of orcs, but not out here in the open, with a storm rapidly closing in on them.

"Any estimate on how many of them there are?" Ethan asked Rogan.

The Clan leader shook his head. "All we know for sure is that is a sizeable force, mostly orcs, although there could be any number of other creatures with them." He looked toward the horizon, his eyes dark. "I don't even know how they got here. They must've slipped past Conor and his forces, traveling south through Avalon."

"Then there's the question of how they knew you would be here." Ethan said darkly. He glanced at the caravan, sure that Sarah was inside. He wouldn't put it past her to have been in contact with the enemy somehow…

A sudden stirring from within the caravan caught the attention of everyone present. The mobile little home rocked slightly and a woman's voice could be heard from within, crying out in pain. Samoth's face darkened and his shoulders slumped.

"How long has it been this time?" Rogan asked.

"Only five or so hours," Samoth sighed. "The healer will start giving her the valerian and skullcap in addition to the poppy very soon now."

"If she gets any worse…" Rogan warned. His voice was tight but his demeanor spoke of his dejection.

Samoth looked sharply at the Clan Leader. "I haven't forgotten, Rogan."

Ethan could tell that this was but the continuation of an argument that had obviously started some time ago. It was also clear that they were having a hard time keeping the girl contained.

"Is she really so close to a total loss of control?" Ethan asked, looking back and forth between Rogan and Samoth.

Rogan compressed his lips, not saying anything. Samoth passed his hand over his face tiredly.

"We have been keeping her sedated in the hope that it also keeps her power from flaring out of control. It is getting harder and harder to keep her unconscious for any length of time. The power is burning through her, negating the effects of our magic as well as the drugs that keep her sedated."

Ethan raised his eyebrows. He had not expected the girl to be so powerful. He glanced at Rogan and noted his tense posture.

He gestured in the direction of the Clan Leader."And if she grows worse?" he asked Samoth.

The Elder's face grew dark. "If we cannot control her, then Rogan has promised to kill her before her power escapes, erupting into a magical explosion that will kill us all."

Ethan shifted in his saddle. This was getting worse by the moment. He knew Jareth would still insist on the girl being brought back to the Goblin Kingdom, regardless of the danger she posed. Ethan was not so sure that would be wise. For several moments he toyed with the idea of refusing the escort them any further. It might be better in the long run if Rogan were allowed to carry out his mercy killing. It would solve more than one problem.

Another heartrending cry from the caravan drew everyone's attention. A group of healers hurried forward and Samoth sighed. "It's time. Would you like to observe, General? You seem to have some doubts."

Ethan looked sharply at the old centaur, slightly spooked at the way he seemed to almost have read his mind regarding the girl. He considered the offer but shook his head, averting his eyes from the writhing form of the young woman as she was lifted out into the cold wind. He didn't know how she swayed everyone to her side, but Ethan was going to take no chances, regardless of how ill and incapacitated she was. He would have to remain impartial. He intended to stay as far away from the girl as he possibly could for the time being.

"I don't think so," he replied. "I'm sure that you have it under control."

The Elder nodded and turned away. He paused, turning back after only a few steps "General-"

Ethan raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"She isn't what you suspect." Samoth said flatly. The Elder turned away, hurrying off to see to the girl.

Ethan shook his head and turned to Rogan, who had watched the exchange with interest. Before the centaur could ask any questions, Ethan said, "We need to get underway as soon as possible. How long does this usually take?" He gestured toward the healers who were gathered around Sarah, hiding her from view.

"Not long." Rogan replied.

"Good. Now, tell me everything you know about the movements of the orcs that are following you. We need to be prepared to defend ourselves, should they decide to attack out here on the plains.'

"Do you think it's likely?" Rogan asked. "They've been following at a distance for days, almost as though they are afraid to face us on open ground. Not that I blame them. Our archers are very good."

"If I were the leader of those orcs, I'd want to choose my time carefully, but I would definitely attack while you were still on the plains," Ethan told him. "The open country can work in their favor for them as much as it works in yours. Besides, the closer we get to the Goblin Kingdom, the more risk they run of encountering further complications, like us."

Ethan gestured to the troops still massed behind him and grinned in spite himself. He might not have wanted this mission, but it was looking like they might get to have some fun regardless. His military mind was already at work devising strategies and defenses against the enemy.

Rogan nodded thoughtfully at what he had said. He rubbed his beard, brushing accumulated ice and snow out of it. "I suppose you have a point. I had been thinking that the closer we got the the border, the more the danger would increase."

Ethan nodded. "That's probably an accurate assessment."

The group of healers broke up, several of them lifting the litter from the ground. As they approached the the caravan, Ethan averted his eyes. He still refused to look at the girl, sedated or not. He would not fall under her spell.

Rogan also noted that the healers were finished. "How far are we from the border?"

Ethan considered the question. "We've been out here for fifteen days, but we were searching in wide arcs, not knowing where you would be. If we push hard, covering as much ground as possible every day, I'd say we can make it to the border within five days. Another two should see us to the closest of the outer forts where we can use the portals."

"So, a week to get her to the Castle, then," Rogan said. "That's not bad. It isn't great, but she might make it."

Ethan shrugged. He'd be just as happy if the girl didn't make it. Still, Jareth had given him his orders and he would see them carried out to the best of his ability. Even if he didn't like them.

Rogan indicated the troops at his back. "Shall we deploy your men and get moving then? The weather looks as though it won't hold much longer.

They both looked up at the looming clouds that were spreading across the sky.

"Let's do it," Ethan said.

* * *

"Get up you ass!" Mathyn barked.

The orc, who had stumbled into a deep snowdrift at the side of the trail they were following, struggled to extricate himself as he glared down at him. Mathyn sneered at the floundering orc before turning away in disgust.

He had been in a relatively good mood. Ever since they dispatched that band of dwarves at Ravencall Pass, thwarting their efforts to block his way into the heart of the dwarven kingdom, Mathyn had been enjoying himself. His plan was all coming together.

As they had snuck through Avalon, he had seen ample evidence that the attacks on the human kingdom were proceeding according to plan. The countryside had been all but emptied of able bodied men and women. Those who were left were old and the infirm, or else very young. The few refugee camps that they had passed by close to the Goblin Kingdom's border were full of women and children, easy targets.

So easy, in fact that he'd had a bit of a hard time keeping his orcs in line. They had been more inclined to rape and pillage than he liked. Mathyn had been forced to allow them some fun as they traveled. More than one youngster who had strayed from home or camp had met their end at the hands of his passing orcs. Even more young women had been taken, used, and then killed. All of them had gone to keep his raiding party fed. Mathyn himself had turned a blind eye, not caring so long as no one raised the alarm to impede their progress. They had a rendezvous with a certain Aírioch to keep.

In fact, the only dark cloud on his horizon was the fact the the little pest, Chiara, and her human companion had defected. Mathyn chuckled darkly. Chaira currently had cause to be very terrified. He might be too busy right now to attend to her punishment, but he'd made certain that she wouldn't be resting easily in the meantime.

As they tailed the group of centaurs they had finally managed to locate, Mathyn amused himself by imagining the various punishments he could inflict on the little nyxie. He was weighing his choices, wondering whether he should kill her outright or keep her alive but broken, when a scout returned.

"Report."

The orc bowed low before him. He held the posture for several beats longer than was strictly necessary before rising to speak. "My Lord, a party of humans and hobgoblins joined the centaurs yesterday. They appear to be making haste to the Goblin Kingdom." He cringed as he spoke. The news wasn't good, and it was not unheard of for Mathyn to take out his anger on the messenger.

Mathyn considered the news. "Any word from our spy at the Henge?"

The orc captain, who had been lumbering silently through the snow at his side spoke up. "She reports that the girl was definitely there. They took 'er by caravan toward the Goblin Kingdom."

Mathyn grunted. It had taken them considerable time and effort to pick up the trail of the group traveling north with Sarah. They'd had to cross and recross the plains in search of them. Now the news that they had been joined by troops obviously sent by Jareth meant that they would face even stiffer resistance when it came time to take her.

"Speed up," Mathyn ordered. "I want to get ahead of them. There is no sense of attacking the centaurs on the open plains. They know this terrain better than anyone and they probably have archers with them. They'll be able to cut us down long before we can get close. We'll set up an ambush within the Goblin Kingdom itself."

"Within' the Goblin Kingdom?" the captain exclaimed. "F'rgive me, M'Lord, but don't that mean we'll 'ave a hard time takin' them?"

Mathyn shrugged. He didn't really care, as long as he got what he wanted in the end. "Perhaps. But they'll be tired, exhausted from the pace they set to get there. They won't be thinking about the possibility of an ambush. Instead, they'll just be concerned with getting to the end of their journey as quickly as possible."

The captain grunted in acknowledgement and fell silent. Mathyn turned back to the orc who had reported the presence of the new troops. "Any sign of Sarah herself? This would all be far easier if we could catch her unaware and straying from the centaurs."

The orc shook his head. "No one's laid eyes on 'er, M'Lord. We thinks she's keepin' to the closed wagon."

Mathyn frowned. "She seems determined to elude me."

The orcs wisely chose to make no comment.

After several moments, Mathyn shook himself out of his reverie and renewed his orders. "Pick up the pace, Captain. I want to intercept them before they reach the walls of the Labyrinth. I don't want any further interference from my brother."

The captain relayed his orders, bellowing them out in a voice calculated to carry over the sound of the rising wind. The order to speed up was met with a chorus of groans and curses. They had already been pushed nearly beyond their endurance as they raced to find the girl and the centaurs she traveled with.

Mathyn ignored the discontent of his troops. His mind was already on the coming battles. He only spared a brief thought for the invasions that were even now taking place in Avalon and the Dwarven that he had left in charge of those forces knew their business. Since he had been contacted by neither group, Mathyn assumed that things were going as planned on both fronts.

Instead, his mind was fully occupied with the new problem of setting an ambush for Sarah. She continued to defy him, eluding him at every turn. First within the Labyrinth and then at the Henge. Now, she refused to so much as show her face amongst the centaurs, leaving him nothing to go on but the assurances of his Lilim spy that she was even in the party traveling north.

A grin spread across his face. She was there. Why else would the centaurs be so keen to travel quickly, covering their tracks as they went? As the group sped up, running along the track of the largest orc who pushed through the snow ahead of the rest, Mathyn grinned. Soon. Very soon, Sarah would be his.

* * *

Rhiannon waited just outside the family dining hall for her son. She wanted to speak to him before he left, hiding himself away in the Labyrinth for the day as he had done every day since she arrived. She knew he was doing important work, and she had seen how his condition deteriorated since she had arrived, so she knew that his preoccupation with the ongoing repairs was not merely a pretense to avoid Belinda. Although the Fates knew that she couldn't blame her son for avoiding her.

She shuffled restlessly. She had not been well of late. Ever since she had read those damn prophecies, she had been uneasy. It was an anxiety that she couldn't seem to shake. She had recognized several of the passages as pertaining to herself. Now she wondered if she had done the right thing in concealing certain facts from the world. If she had simply been more open, maybe they could have avoided this tension between Mathyn and Jareth. She had to wonder if things would really have been any different, though.

The High Queen sighed again. There was no way to know. Their feet were set on their current path and they could not deviate. For good or ill, the choices that had been made in the past would now dictate the future.

The only thing she could do was try to ensure that her son did not fall into the same trap she had of allowing others to make decisions for him.

Jareth strode through the door, his face grim and preoccupied.

"Jareth!"

He looked up and smiled at her, the dark look vanishing as though it had never been. For a brief moment, the sight transported Rhiannon back to a time when her eldest son was a happy young man looking forward to a bright future. She sighed, dispelling the notion. She had no time for such reminiscing right now.

With a smile, she took his arm. "Walk with me, my son."

"If you wish," he replied. "I have little time, though. I must get out to the Labyrinth."

"That is one of the things I wish to discuss with you." They strolled through the castle in companionable silence, heading for the main doors. As they neared the entrance, Rhiannon spoke again.

"I want you to show me the repairs in the Labyrinth, Jareth."

His long strides stopped dead. He turned to her. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Mother."

"Why not? Are things really all that bad?"

They ignored the bustle of servants going to and fro in the main hall, frantically trying to clean up the castle. Just the day before Belinda had made it clear that she thought the housekeeping left a lot to be desired. That had been after she had proclaimed the decor to be completely unacceptable but before she gave orders forbidding any of the small goblins to get anywhere near her. Rhiannon had wanted to smack her.

Jareth sighed. "I'm still not sure what's causing the damage. I'd rather not risk something happening to you. Father is unhappy enough with me as it is.

She waved away his concerns. "Nonsense. I'll be fine. Your father will be fine as well." She looked seriously at her son. "You're both far to hard headed for your own good, you know."

Jareth grinned slightly and shrugged. "At least I come by it honestly."

She gestured to the doors. "Shall we?"

Jareth offered his arm once more and they left the Castle Beyond the Goblin City and the anxious activity within, striding out into the cold air and starting down the steps together. As they approached the bottom step, the wind gusted, blowing the falling snow around them.

Rhiannon shivered. She hadn't thought much about the weather when she'd asked Jareth to show her the Labyrinth. In truth, it was mostly a pretext to get him alone somewhere she could be sure they wouldn't be overheard. There were some things she needed to say to her son.

Jareth paused suddenly. Rhiannon kept going for a few moments. Her momentum carried her down the final few steps before she stopped and looked back up at her son.

He descended the final few stairs and stood next to her at the bottom of the stone staircase. "Perhaps we should do this another day," he suggested. "It's cold and you aren't-"

"I am here as a representative of the Court to assess the state of the Labyrinth in response to your latest report, Jareth," she reminded him, giving him a direct look.

Jareth sighed. "Very well." With a flick of his wrist he conjured a crystal. "Do you mind?" he asked, holding the crystal up in front of her.

"You wish to transport us?" Her eyes widened. She had never been transported by free magic before.

Jareth looked her over. "If you wish a tour, then yes. I will also make sure that you are dressed for the weather," he added, glancing down at her morning dress. The wind gusted again and she was reminded that she wasn't exactly dressed to spend several hours out in the wintry weather.

Rhiannon blinked for a moment before nodding. Jareth pulled her close, standing beside her and passing his arm around her waist as he did so. He smiled down at her. "Don't worry, Mother. Stand close. Everything will be fine." She only had time to bite her lip before Jareth dropped the crystal and the world faded around her.

Rhiannon squeaked in fear and clutched her son's arm tightly. It was a very undignified sound, but she couldn't help it. Very rarely was she transported in this fashion. She had no great amount of her own magic, and her husband had learned long ago that she did not enjoy the sensation of magical travel. On the few occasions that she was forced to travel by magical teleportation, she always feared that she would somehow be inadvertently scattered across the land in tiny pieces.

In the next instant, Rhiannon found herself standing in the stone corridors of the Labyrinth. She gasped in shock. She was now hooded and cloaked, warmly dressed against the cold that made her breath steam in the air around her face. She felt all the blood drain from her face and her stomach heaved with the after effects of the magical travel. She leaned heavily against her son.

"Mother? Are you alright?" Jareth look down at her, his arm still around her waist as he supported her weight.

"I'll be fine." She took a deep breath, willing her stomach to settle. After several moments, she stepped away, smiling at Jareth who still looked worried.

"I didn't realize you would react so strongly-" he began.

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. "It's fine, dear. I expected it."

Jareth's face broke into a grin, the first genuine smile she had seen on his face since he arrived. "So this is why you always insisted on traveling overland or through the portals whenever we went visiting?"

Rhiannon laughed ruefully, looking with interest at their surroundings as she replied. "It is. I've never liked magical teleportation. I very much prefer more ordinary methods of transportation."

They shared a laugh, each of them remembering the many times in the past that she had gone out of her way to avoid magical travel. Rhiannon noted that everything in the immediate area seemed to be in splendid shape. The walls were intact, as were the flagstones beneath a shallow layer of snow under their feet. A small bird flew down, perching on the top of the wall nearby. It cocked its head and regarded them for several moments before hopping off down the length of the wall in search of food.

"I always liked traveling with you." Jareth confided, drawing her attention away from the little bird. "It seemed like such an adventure when I was young. The whole family traveling overland, taking our time as we traveled from city to city…"

"Well, you might have had fun," Rhiannon told him, "But it was an awful lot of work for the rest of us."

Jareth sighed, "That's probably true."

They stood silently for a moment before Jareth continued. "Well, what would you like to see?" He gestured, indicating the Labyrinth around them.

Rhiannon looked about them once more, noting that the bird had disappeared while they spoke. "What do you keep having to repair?" she asked.

Jareth grimaced. "The damage is in the lower portions of the Labyrinth, around the Bog. As I said before, it's dangerous. I don't recommend going down there."

"Alright, then explain to me what's happening." She set off walking, wanting to get moving. It was cold standing still.

They walked through the Labyrinth as Jareth launched into an explanation, turning corners randomly. They had no particular destination in mind, they were simply walking for the sake of the exercise itself. Rhiannon watched his expressions while simultaneously trying to understand what was going on.

"So you still have no idea what is actually causing the damage?" They turned a corner and entered an open area, although neither of them was paying particular attention to their surroundings at the moment.

"Not really. All I know is that it is some sort of outside influence. Some malevolent force that wishes to destroy the Labyrinth for some reason. The Labyrinth itself either can't or won't tell me what it is. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to keep ahead of the destruction. I need…"

He trailed off and Rhiannon finished his sentence. "You need the Aírioch."

Jareth nodded, turning away so that she couldn't see his face. Her heart ached for him. He thought that he was being circumspect, but Rhiannon was well aware of his feelings for Sarah. How could she not be? She was his mother, and she knew her son. He had never been able to hide his feelings from her, no matter how successful he was at hiding them from everyone else.

"Have you had any word from Ethan on Sarah's whereabouts?"

Jareth whipped his head toward her, his eyes wide. "How-" he began, only to abruptly stop speaking.

She blinked for several moments. His startled look and hastily abandoned question made it obvious that Jareth knew exactly who Sarah was. Rhiannon hadn't been aware that Jareth was privy to that information. She had assumed that he would take her question as a simple change of subject. The fact that he didn't was very interesting.

In retrospect, it probably shouldn't have surprised her. He'd had Diona here advising him for some time now. If anyone outside the Council were aware of Sarah's heritage, it would be that wily old woman. Rhiannon filed that information away before answering smoothly. "I've been keeping my eye on Sarah for some time now. Any young girl who could beat both you and the Labyrinth seemed like someone that we should know more about, so I did a little digging... and some discrete spying," she added, almost as an afterthought.

He said nothing for a long moment before asking, "Who else knows?"

She waved away his concerns. "Just a select few members of the Council."

Anxiety, mixed with an equal measure of chagrin, suffused his countenance. She could see the muscles in his jaw working as he ground out, "Which few?"

She smiled gently. "Only those that I personally trust to keep it to themselves, Jareth. Don't worry."

He looked unhappy, but accepted her statement without comment. He stood silently watching the falling snow. The seconds ticked by as he seemed lost in thought. Rhiannon looked around.

They had come upon a small parklike section of the Labyrinth. Benches and shrubs, all covered in snow, dotted the open area. Glistening icicles festooned the overhangs and archways in the walls that surrounded them, making the area look like the solstice treats the chefs made for the children of the Underground. Rhiannon noted that there were flower beds and even what looked like a small pond nearby. During the spring and summer, this was probably a delightful place to linger. Although it was still beautiful now, at the height of the cold season.

Now that they had stopped moving, she shivered. "Jareth? Was there any word from Ethan or Sarah?"

He didn't reply. In fact, he very obviously hadn't heard a word she'd said. She sighed.

"Jareth!"

He jerked, turning his attention to her in confusion. She couldn't tell if he had forgotten she was there, or if he simply had no idea what she wanted. "What?"

"Was there any word from Ethan or Sarah?"

He shook his head. "No word." Stiffly, he offered her his arm. She took it, tucking her warmly gloved hand in the crook of his elbow and smiled up at him sympathetically. He turned away, refusing to say anything further.

As they moved out of the small parklike area, Jareth continued to maintain the silence that had fallen between them. Rhiannon stole glances at him every now and then while she considered how to begin a conversation about Sarah herself. It was what she had most wanted to talk about with him, yet it seemed to be a rather sore subject for her son. His jaw was set and there was a melancholy air about him. It wasn't in his face. A blank mask had settled over his features, letting nothing of what he felt to show there. It was more about the way he carried himself and the stiffness with which he moved.

She was silent for some time, thinking. Just as she began to notice the stench of the Bog on the wind, she made up her mind. She had to say something. Remaining silent would do no good, and she couldn't bear to see Jareth tie himself to a future that he clearly did not want.

"Jareth, you don't want to marry Belinda, do you?"

"I thought that I made that clear from the beginning," he said sharply, finally glancing down at her. His mask had slipped, revealing the still simmering anger that she had seen back in Fialis on the day he took up his seat on the Council.

"Well, yes, you did. But-"

Jareth's face became an expressionless mask once more as he reigned in his temper. He stopped walking and turned to her. "Are you speaking as my mother right now, or as a member of the Council?"

She blinked for a moment, briefly at a loss for words. She reached out to him, wishing she could take him in her arms and comfort him, just as she had when he was a small child. Instead, Rhiannon laid a comforting hand on his arm and looked earnestly up into his face.

"Right now, I'm simply your mother." She offered a small smile. "I don't want to see you throw away your future to satisfy the Council's, or more particularly, Diermuid's, whims. I don't know why he chose Belinda, but she is clearly all wrong for you."

She watched his face carefully as she spoke, hoping to see some softening of his features that would let her know what he was thinking. She understood his need to keep his feelings hidden from the Council, but as his mother, it broke her heart to think that he might be hurting. Even more so if she was contributing to it in any way.

Jareth sighed and the cold mask dropped away. There was emotion there, but it was complicated. The only one she could read clearly was frustration. "Even if I reject the Council's choice of a bride, they are still determined that I should marry." He looked off into the distance, his brow furrowed. "They aren't wrong. I must continue the succession."

Rhiannon scrambled to find something to say. Now seemed to be a good time to bring Sarah into the conversation, but she couldn't think of a delicate way to do it. She was sure, now more than ever, that he cared for the young woman.

He continued to speak. "One loveless marriage is as good an another, isn't it? Why make enemies of the Council over it?"

The harsh note of pain in his voice and the way he winced as he spoke pushed her over the edge. "Oh for fucks sake, Jareth!" she exclaimed, finally losing patience. "Stop with the noble self sacrifice bullshit already. I want to hear what you want, not what you think I and the rest of the Council want to hear from you!"

His eyes had gone wide at her use of profanity. Now he blinked at her, his face unreadable.

"Did you just curse at me?"

Rhiannon sighed. "Yes." She nodded emphatically. "Yes I did."

"I don't think I've ever heard you use that kind of language," he said in awe. The beginnings of a smile were tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Her own lips were turning upward as she replied. "Yes, well. I needed to get your attention."

He grinned at her. "Does grandmother know you use such language?"

She rolled her eyes. "This is serious, Jareth. I don't want to see you trapped in a loveless marriage, particularly one in which you will be unable to respect your partner."

Jareth's face fell and he shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, well…"

She spoke gently, "Is there someone else, Jareth?"

He turned away suddenly, striding through an opening that appeared behind him. Rhiannon hurried to catch up with him, surprised at his sudden departure. He spoke back over his shoulder. "No, Mother, there isn't. Now, unless there is anything else you'd like to see, I really need to get to work." There was a finality to his tone, but he had paused just slightly too long before answering.

Rhiannon, with years of experience in politics, and a lifetime of practice reading the moods of a man so like her son that they could have been the same person at different life stages, could easily spot his statement for the lie it was. Now more convinced than ever that her son harbored powerful feelings for the Aírioch, she felt a sudden chill pass through her at the thought of a possibility that had never before crossed her mind.

Although it was rare, so rare that most thought it nothing more than a romantic fairy tale, there were some who still underwent the process of Sonuachar, or soul binding. She should know. She and Cieran shared just such a bond. It was an intensely private and intimate connection, rarely spoken of. Hence the fact that it had passed almost exclusively into the realm of stories.

If Jareth had begun to bind his soul to Sarah then he would be unable to live without her. Kept from her for too long, his soul would wither and he would die. Her heart thundered as her apprehension grew.

"Jareth, wait!" Her voice sounded odd even to her own ears as she all but ran to catch up with him. Her son stopped but did not turn to face her. He held himself aloof, back and shoulders tight, as he waited for her to speak once more.

She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "If there is someone else-"

He tensed, pulling away from her, but made no reply.

"If there is someone else with whom you share a… a connection, don't give that up to satisfy what you see as your duty. Affairs of the heart and the obligations of your rank don't have to be mutually exclusive." She wrung her hands, watching him closely.

Jareth's shoulders sagged. "I need time- time that I do not have."

Rhiannon sighed in relief. That was probably as close as she was going to get to an admission of his feelings. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

"So buy yourself that time. Break the betrothal, announce your intentions to court another, hold a contest to find a wife… do anything- anything other than marry elsewhere when your heart and soul are pledged to another."

Finally Jareth turned to look at her. She didn't know what she expected to see, but it wasn't the raw emotion that shone in his eyes. His mismatched gaze locked with hers for a brief moment before he blinked and looked away, the expressionless mask back in place.

"Is there anything else, Mother?"

She shook her head, knowing that she had pushed him as far as she could. There was nothing more to be gained from continuing the conversation.

He produced a crystal and handed it to her. "Then take this. When you smash it on the ground, it will open a portal back to the Castle." He bowed slightly. "I must go, Alex and the others are awaiting my arrival at the edge of the Bog. I will see you at dinner."

Jareth turned away and strode off down the path. Rhiannon watched her son go, hoping that he would read between the lines and understand what she had been trying to tell him. When he was out of sight, she turned and walked slowly in the opposite direction. She wasn't ready to return to the castle and the chaos in it just yet.

* * *

Enna slogged through the snow, grunting with the effort it took to pull the sledge behind her. It was a crude vehicle, but it was the best she had been able to do on short notice. She glanced back, her violet eyes shining with tears. Strapped securely to the rough platform was the unconscious form of the the dwarven Prince.

Every time she checked on him, Enna expected to see a corpse. She had never seen anyone beaten as badly as Ralok had been. In addition to the beating he had sustained, he was also almost frozen. He would be lucky if he didn't lose whole limbs to frostbite. She'd thought him dead when she found him, half buried in snow and debris in a crack at the top of the eastern cliff. If only she hadn't been so delayed!

_Although she had intended to turned back as soon as she was sure that Ralok and the others would have been well on their way to the pass, things hadn't worked out all that well. Her companions had kept her moving south for far longer than she had wanted to. The way they saw it, she had been ordered to head to Avalon and they were determined that she would do just that._

In vain, Enna had argued that there was no need for so many messengers. The others had all but ignored her, hustling her along. Finally, one of them had confessed the Ralok had given them orders to see that she made it safely to Avalon. Enna had wanted to curse his name, even as her heart beat harder at this information.

_It had taken some very fast talking to get her fellow scouts to agree to go on without her, but Enna was determined. In the end, she'd had to reveal more of her feelings than she wanted to in order to convince them to follow orders without her. Eventually, they had continued reluctantly on their journey toward the human kingdom, leaving Enna to watch them until they were out of sight._

_Not long after she parted from the others, Enna had an unexpected encounter with a raiding party that had delayed her even further. Luckily, she had heard them coming and managed to find a secure hiding place. She had only risked a single quick glance at the passing enemy. As soon as she had realized that the orcs were accompanied by a hooded fae with dark hair, fear had sent her heart pounding in her throat. She'd kept her head low after that, thanking the Fates that she had been downwind of the orcs, listening as the sounds of the raiding party faded away. They were obviously headed toward Avalon. The raiding party was moving fast, and Enna hoped that her companions hurried. If they were overtaken…_

_She had nearly turned around and headed toward Avalon again. Indecision plagued her as she stood amongst the copse of evergreen trees that she had taken shelter in. More than once she'd started out in one direction or another, only to turn around again. In the end she'd chosen to turn back to rejoin Ralok, trusting that the others could handle themselves._

_She was still at least an hour from the top of the cliff when the roar of an avalanche reached her ears. She'd grinned, thinking of how smug Ralok would be that he'd actually managed to pull this crazy plan off. She sped up, jogging in the ground eating lope that the dwarves prided themselves on. She wanted to see the pass for herself._

_She had expected to hear Ralok and his group coming towards her as she followed the trail up to the top of the cliff. The silence was eerie and a feeling of anxiety settled over her as she climbed higher and higher through the trees. Soon she was moving at a dead run, not bothering with stealth, the feeling of impending doom growing with each step she took._

_It was neary dark by the time she reached the tableau of death waiting for her at the top of the cliff. The sheer cruelty of the carnage turned her stomach, and it was only with a supreme effort of will that Enna held onto her last meal. Her heart turned to ice as she looked from one familiar face to another, each one frozen in a rictus of death. These men had been her friends- her comrades. For them to have died in this manner was barbarous._

_After an anxious search, Enna had finally found Ralok. It looked like he had been at the top of the cliff when the charges went off, only to have a portion of the undermined rock face give way underneath him later on. He had slid some ways down into a crack that had opened from the top of the cliff, becoming partially buried in the snow and debris that had sifted down atop him._

_It had probably saved his life, sheltering him from the worst of the elements, but it hadn't made Enna's life any easier. It had taken her an agonizingly long time to reach him. She had been sure that she would find him dead, but to her joy and relief, his pulse still beat beneath her fingertips when she had pressed them against his frozen neck._

_Climbing back up, Enna cast about, searching for anything she could use to help her pull Ralok to the top of the cliff. Finding the rope still tied to the tree, she had followed it in the dark, edging as close to the top of the cliff as she dared before cutting it. Far below she heard something crashing down what was left of the cliff face. She swallowed hard and turned her attention to Ralok. She had to focus on him._

_Pulling the dwarven Prince out of the crevasse he'd slid into had taken all of Enna's strength. Again and again his dead weight at the other end of the rope had sent her backsliding as she struggled to bring him to the top of the cleft. Then came the long, exhausting journey back down to the hidden cave where they'd had their temporary base. She only managed it thanks to the lucky find of a conveniently sized fir branch._

There was only a few hours before dawn when Enna had finally stumbled into the cave. She built a fire, pulling Ralok as close to it as she dared before taking stock of the situation. They were days from Bhandarth and Ralok's condition was uncertain. She treated his wounds as best she could and worried over his frostbite, considering the best way to get him out of the mountains. She had limited medical knowledge, but even she could see that he wouldn't make it if she didn't get him to a healer.

_When he had started to shiver violently, she had wrapped him in blankets warmed by the fire. She heated water, intending to brew tea but stopped when she considered his condition. She had no way of determining what his internal injuries were. It was more than possible that giving him anything would aggravate his condition. Instead, she poured the hot water into a waterskin Wrapping it loosely in a blanket, she placed it gently on his still shivering form, knowing that it would help to warm his body more than his limbs now. Living in this harsh, mountainous kingdom, everyone knew how to treat this kind of exposure._

_She sat with him for a while longer, pondering how she was going to get him out of here. She had to find some easy way of transporting him. She certainly couldn't leave him, and waiting for help to come to them was out of the question. There was simply no way anyone would get here in time. Her eyes fell on the fir branch she had used to bring him down the mountain and the beginnings of an idea popped into her head._

"Stay with me, Ralok." She kissed his still cold face and hurried out of the cave, dashing away tears as she went. When the sun rose some time later, it found her already trudging through the snow. She hurried through the drifts, racing against death. Strapped to the freshly built sledge behind her, Ralok clung to life.

Pushing the memories aside and dashing away her tears, Enna turned her face toward Bhandarth once again. She had no time to cry. Ralok's life depended on her ability to get him to the capital as quickly as possible and she knew it had already taken her too long just to get this far.

She was less than a day from Bhandarth and her strength was starting to give out. With a sob of relief, she saw the road leading to the capital come into view as she topped yet another ridge. The sun had just cleared the mountains in the fifth dawn since she'd found Ralok, reflecting off the snow and making it sparkle like diamonds. The ice covered trees glistened. Enna was indifferent to the beauty of the landscape as she considered the slope before her.

The terrain had proven to be her biggest obstacle, and slopes were the worst. She had no real way of controlling the contraption she'd built to get Ralok home. The best she could do was to reverse their positions, staying above the sledge and lowering it down the slope as carefully as she could. More than once, she had nearly tipped it, jarring Ralok and causing him to cry out in pain. Still, he did not regain consciousness.

"Hold on, Ralok. We're almost there," she panted, as she once again allowed him to slide down the slope ahead of her. The sledge was about halfway down the slope when her own feet hit a patch of ice and she went down with a shriek.

"No no no!"

The weight of the sled, connected to her body by the ropes criss-crossed over her chest, pulled her roughly down the slope after it. Frantically, she tried to stop their downward slide with her feet.

Ralok was almost to the bottom when Enna's foot caught on a hidden rock, twisting her ankle cruelly. A stream of curses flew from her mouth as the pain shot through her ankle and darted up her leg. She abandoned all attempts to control their descent and let gravity take over.

They overshot the road, coming to rest in the ditch on the far side. Her leg and ankle throbbing, Enna crawled to the sledge, which had tipped as it hit the snowbank side on.

"Ralok!"

He moaned, then coughed weakly, spraying blood over the snow. He was still tied to the makeshift sled, but his weight was straining the entire flimsy contraption. With tears of pain and anxiety streaking down her cheeks, Enna pulled her gloves off with her teeth. Gripping the front of the blankets he was wrapped in, she attempted to push him and the sledge upright but she couldn't get enough leverage without standing.

She tried to stand, only to sink immediately to the ground with a cry of pain and frustration. Her ankle was in bad shape, maybe even broken. Enna wanted to scream. To have made it this far, only to be stopped by a stupid accident was more than she could bear. Ralok could die because she made a mistake.

His eyelids fluttered. "...E-na"

It was barely a whisper, but it was the first sign of life that she had seen in more than a day. She stroked his cold face gently, trying to encourage him to awaken.

"I'm here, Ralok. Just stay with me. We're almost home." His eyelids fluttered again but his breathing grew labored. She could hear a telltale rattle in his breathing that did not bode well.

Panic set in as Enna watched blood drip from the corner of his mouth. "Ralok, no! No! I forbid you to die on me, do you understand!?"

Frantically she ripped a thick bandage from the edge of her cloak. Wrapping her ankle tightly, boot and all, she set her face and rose to her feet. Pain shot through her ankle, but she ignored it. If she was right, they were only a league or two from the outskirts of Bhandarth. She could make it that far- she had to.


	28. Surprises

Disclaimer- Alas the fairies bit me instead of granting my wish, so I still don't own the rights to the Labyrinth, nor do I make any money from this story.

A/N - It's HERE! I am proud and excited to announce that the newly redrawn world map is finished! Many thanks to the massively talented jenjen421 over on deviantart for completely transforming my original train wreck into something that is just stunning. Although I am now using the map as the cover art for the story, I highly recommend you head over to deviantart to check out the full size and take in the gorgeous details. You can find it on both my profile and hers. Again, sooo many thanks to JenJen421. Your art is amazing and I am beyond happy with the finished result!

If you like the map then please go and leave my wonderful artist some love on deviantart. She totally deserves it!

Also, I know you've all been waiting FOREVER for an update. My apologies, it's been a CRAZY summer. Surgery, travel, kids, family, house emergencies, camps, weddings... you name it, it's probably on the list of things that have kept me from writing. I haven't been completely out of it, though. I have been working, just... very, very slowly. Lol!

Warning - A small warning to for references to inter-humanoid cannibalism. Hey, they're orcs! They are meant to be disgusting!

* * *

Leofrick lounged in a chair by the fire. He was listening to Diermuid rant about the Champion once again. It was becoming a far too familiar scene. Diermuid paced back and forth, alternately snarling and yelling about the Champion and the betrothal- always about the Champion and the betrothal. Slamming items down and kicking things out of his way, Diermuid worked himself into a rage over things that Leofrick could not possibly hope to control, no matter how many times the Wood Elven King ordered him to do so.

"Rumor has it that the Champion has been found traveling with the centaurs! They say that the girl is on her way to the Goblin Kingdom right now, and that General Ethan has been dispatched to meet her!" Diermuid kicked a footstool out of his path and continued stalking around the room. Even in his anger, he still managed to maintain an air of superiority.

He never flew completely out of control. Leofrick knew that he considered that sort of behavior uncouth, and beneath him. Still, he was closer to losing his cherished composure than the former spy for hire had ever seen him.

"How is it that you were unable to get me this information before I had to hear of it through my connections within the council?" Diermuid snarled.

Leofrick kept his expression blank, feigning a lack of concern. In truth, it did bother him that he had not been among the first to know that the girl had been found. He'd put more resources than was prudent into finding her, only to come up empty. It had been an intensely frustrating experience.

Now he knew why all his efforts brought no information. Of all the places she could have hidden and remained anonymous, the grasslands were second only to the Troll Protectorates.

"You know that the centaurs dislike and mistrust outsiders in their lands. If she is truly traveling with them, then it would have been nearly impossible to get a spy close enough to confirm it. Sending anyone into the grasslands to spy on the centaurs is a suicide." Leofrick pointed out, clenching his jaw to keep his temper in check.

"I didn't give you title and a position in my court to listen to your excuses," Diermuid snapped, glaring at him. "You were supposed to be the best. You were supposed to be this great, legendary spy, and yet you couldn't even locate One! Stupid! MORTAL! GIRL!"

As Deirmuid roared his displeasure, he picked up a pile of reports Leofrick had written and threw them, full force, into the fire. The flames leapt up as the unexpected addition of the paper sent sparks and swirls of smoke billowing into the room.

Leofrick stood slowly. He stepped back from the stinging sparks, glancing around to ensure that none of them caught on anything in the room. As he glanced in the direction of the hall, he was startled to see a shadow slipping away from the half open door. The flaring fire reflected off her long, red hair as the woman, who had clearly been spying on them, shrank into the shadows out in the hallway. He blinked in surprise for a moment before another irritated tirade from Diermuid distracted him, pulling his attention back to the king.

Completely oblivious to their unseen observer, Diermuid was just launching another string of expletive laced abuse at him when Leofrick drew himself up and glared coldly at his king.

"Enough," he said quietly, his voice low and menacing as he returned Diermuid's glare. The two elven men faced each other, each one attempting to back the other down. The silence lengthened and finally Leofrick spoke again, his voice still low and menacing.

"No one," he began, stepping closer to Diermuid. "... no one could have gotten a spy into the grasslands to find that girl. Not anyone who gave a rats ass about their people, at any rate. I may have done many unsavory things to get myself to this point in my life, but one thing I always do is take care of those who depend on me. When I took on this position, it was with the understanding that every single spy and information peddler you had would be under my care. I don't know how you ran things in the past, but I do not throw lives away needlessly."

Diermuid sneered. "To think that you turned out to be such a sap. It's profoundly disappointing." He turned away and strode across the room. "Those peons are a dime a dozen. You need to get your priorities straight, Leofrick."

The Wood Elven King turned and stared imperiously at his Spymaster.

"I will not tolerate such a failure again. You have until tomorrow to decide whether or not you will be able to fulfill your role here in my kingdom. Another subpar performance such as this one will have dire consequences, both for you and for those you care about."

Leofrick ground his teeth. He wanted to launch himself across the room and teach the smarmy bastard a lesson that he wouldn't forget. He fingered the dagger he had hidden in his sleeve and reflected that a swift strike between the ribs would solve many different problems. He slowly eased the dagger down into his palm and shifted his weight, readying himself to make the strike and run. With luck, he could be out of the palace, and on his way out of Illetalos, before anyone noticed that the King was dead.

A soft shuffling at the door caught his attention and he eased his grip on the knife, sliding it back into it's hidden sheath. His stance loosened imperceptibly. Things weren't so simple as they used to be. The days when he could solve most problems with the blade of his knife were gone.

With difficulty, he forced himself to bow to his king. "If you are that unsatisfied with my service, then perhaps you would care to dismiss me outright?" he offered.

"No." Diermuid shook his head. His eyes sparkled with smug glee. "I still have need of your skills. I would far rather retain your talents than lose them, but only if you get your head out of your arse and stop with the namby pamby bullshit. I hired the best assassin and spy in the business and that is who I expect to work with."

Leofrick blinked and straightened with a sigh. He hadn't really expected Diermuid to dismiss him. On the other hand, he wasn't about to start throwing away lives on suicidal and ultimately fruitless missions. It took time and patience to train someone to be a spy. Throwing away that training was criminally wasteful in his opinion.

"Now go." Diermuid ordered, pointing imperiously at the door.

Although it galled him to do so, Leofrick made sure to bow once more before he turned toward the door. He doubted that Diermuid would just let him resign, which meant that he was going to have to slip away tonight, before he was due to give the King an answer. He couldn't afford to offend him right when he most needed to make an escape.

As he slipped out of the room and closed the door, his eyes automatically began searching the shadows for the mysterious woman who had been eavesdropping on his conversation with the Wood Elven King. He moved slowly down the hall, searching the shadows. Strangely, he didn't see her until she spoke.

"My apologies for my husband's atrocious behavior, Lord Leofrick." The quiet voice spoke behind him, prompting him to turn.

The Wood Elven Queen stepped out of the shadows as Leofrick gaped at her. He could hardly believe that he had missed her standing there in the alcove by the window. He had definitely checked that alcove just seconds ago. It had been empty.

Recovering his manners if not his composure, Leofrick bowed deeply. "My Queen."

Irritated, she waved away his obeisance. "We don't have time for that, Lord Leofrick." She indicated the empty hallway before them. "Walk with me."

They walked in silence for some minutes. Despite his curiosity, Leofrick was anxious to return to his apartments. He had to make preparations to leave now, while he still had the chance. He was considering making some excuse when the Queen spoke again.

"My husband is a jackass."

Leofrick blinked but said nothing.

With a short laugh and a sly glance in his direction, she continued, "Come now, my Lord. After that childish display back there, I can't imagine that you don't agree with me."

"I find it rather unfortunate that you happened to passing by when you did. You shouldn't have to be party to such a scene," Leofrick said carefully. Despite his desire to be gone, his mind clicked into gear and he began to wonder why the Wood Elven Queen had been listening in on his conversation with the king. Surely she was already privy to everything her husband did?

Mirima snorted indelicately. "I wasn't just passing by, I was outright spying on you and that idiot," admitted boldly. When he made no reply she continued, "He has the best spy network in the Realms, and yet he doesn't have the wit to see that he is regularly spied on by his own wife."

Leofrick glanced over at her and found her face twisted in a sneer of disgust. "My Lady?"

Mirima abruptly stopped walking and turned to face him. "Are you going to leave?"

Her direct question startled him. During his time in the Wood Elven Kingdom he had grown to view the Queen much as her husband did- as a soft spoken, retiring woman who kept to her own affairs and left the running of the kingdom and the political maneuvering to her husband. Casting his mind over the few memories he had of her, Leforick couldn't recall her having said more than three words in his presence before this night.

She folded her arms over her chest and looked sternly at him. "Well?"

"My Lady, I…"

Mirima sighed and turned away. She continued walking down the corridor. "My husband wasn't always the odious toady you've come to know."

Startled at the abrupt change of subject, Leofrick simply followed along at her side and said nothing.

"When I married him, he was a very different man. I was young, and rather silly, and my father said I needed an ambitious man to help me rule the kingdom…"

Leofrick couldn't hold back the sound of surprise that escaped him. At his side, Mirima smiled.

"Oh yes, Diermuid was not the heir to throne here in the Wood Elven Kingdom. I was. Most have forgotten that fact over the years, and my loving husband has certainly done all in his power to help them do so." Her face clouded for a moment and she closed her eyes. As she took a deep breath, her expression slowly cleared until it was once agains the serene mask that he was used to seeing. "Anyway, Diermuid used to be a caring ruler and a loving husband. We loved each other very much, once upon a time. Over the years, jealousy, privilege, and prejudice have slowly eaten away at the man I fell in love with. Even the ambition that my father once praised has become a character flaw. Diermuid now makes decisions, not for the good of my kingdom, but for his own personal gain. Or worse, he lets his desire for power and his own prejudiced thinking lead him into situations and alliances that are dangerous for everyone, not just our people."

"My Lady, forgive me but… why are you telling me this?"

The wood Elven Queen drew a deep breath and then let it out slowly. "Because I want you to help me. Diermuid is not the only one who gathers information in this kingdom. There are things going on in the Underground that he is choosing to ignore."

Leofrick felt his eyebrows rise. This was most unexpected. "What is it that you think I can do for you, My Lady?"

"I want you to remain in my husbands employ," she held up a hand to forestall the arguments that Leofrick could feel welling up on his tongue. "I am aware of what I am asking you to do, but I feel that things are happening now that could mean disaster if we are not prepared. I think that I shall have need of your services before all is said and done and I would rather not have to hunt you down when the time comes."

Leofrick cocked his head to the side. "You intrigue me," he murmured, staring at the woman who had all but suggested treason to him, were she not the hereditary heir to the throne.

Mirima laughed aloud at this. "I imagine that I do. I dare say you thought me nothing more than a silly woman, too wrapped up in her dresses and her social calls to take notice of anything else going on around her. It is an image that I take care to cultivate. And I will tell you a secret-"

She leaned close and dropped her voice to a whisper. "There is frequently as much news to be found in a woman's bower as in the pubs and taverns."

Leofrick grinned as she stepped back and winked mischievously at him. He chuckled. "I believe you are correct."

She nodded once, her manner suddenly serious once more. "Of course I am. So, you will remain in Illetalos?"

"I believe I will."

* * *

Conor strode down the hall, heading toward Gwenna's office. The news from the north, delivered by a small group of dwarves, was grim. Mathyn and his orcs were marching on the the Realms. According to the dwarves, they had been poised to push through Ravencall pass on the morning Ralok sent them south with their warning. Ralok himself had stayed behind to delay them, if possible. The dwarves had not been hopeful for their commander's success.

A ghost of a smile crossed Conor's face. Successful or not, he had to admire Ralok for having the guts to undertake such a crazy mission. Dumping an avalanche on Mathyn's head certainly wasn't on Conor's list of things to do before he died.

Conor's expression darkened as he thought about the reports his own scouts had brought him last night. In addition to the army now pushing into the dwarven kingdom, another force of orcs was massing north of the Lethe River, poised to invade Avalon proper. It looked as though Mathyn was finally making a play for power after years of raiding and planning.

Conor paused in front of the door to Gwenna's office, his knuckles white as he gripped the sword at his side. The King of Avalon didn't know how he was going to stop the orcs from marching straight through his kingdom, killing and burning as they went. No matter what he did, it was very likely that they were about to be overrun. There was just too much land to cover, too many places for the enemy to cross, and too many ways he could be outmaneuvered once Mathyn's forces crossed the river.

Pushing the grim thoughts away, Conor released his grip on his weapon and took a deep breath. He did not want this short time he had with his wife before he left for the front to be marred by thoughts of the battlefield. When he felt that he was suitably calm, Conor pushed the door gently open.

Gwenna sat within, glasses perched on her nose as she sifted through a pile of reports on her desk. A fire burned merrily in the fireplace to one side, casting a warm glow over his wife's seated form. Even so, she had a shawl draped around her shoulders and her glasses occasionally fogged as a draft swept through the room.

"Still trying to figure out where all the missing people have gone?" Conor asked, leaning down to kiss the top of her head in greeting. He knew that her inability to solve the puzzle bothered Gwenna greatly. Still, she refused to give up her search for answers.

She sighed. "Yes." Tossing a handful of reports on her desk in frustration, Gwenna sat back, leaning against him as he stood beside her. "I simply can't figure out where so many people could have gone, and how this problem has gone unnoticed until now. There's just no reason for it!"

Conor knelt beside her, taking her hands in his and trying to calm her frustration as she turned in her seat to face him. "You'll find the answer eventually."

She smiled gently at him as she reached out to stroke his beard. "I will miss you," she said softly.

Conor turned his face to kiss her hand, once more capturing it in his own. "And I you."

Gwenna suddenly gripped his hands tightly. "I need you to promise that you will come home safely. I need you… we need you." As she spoke, Gwenna gently disengaged from his grip and placed his hand flat against her abdomen.

For a moment, Conor's mind went blank. He stared at her, his eyes traveling from her face to where he held his hand against her body and back again, over and over. As the realization of what she was telling him finally dawned on him, all thoughts of the coming battles fled his mind and he laughed with joy.

"Truly?"

Her face seemed to glow as he watched the same joy he felt suffuse her entire being. She nodded happily and then squealed slightly when he buried his face in her midsection, kissing her abdomen over and over.

"Stop that, Conor! That tickles!"

He grinned up at her boyishly before rising and drawing her to her feet after him. He enfolded her in his embrace. "I will come back to you both, as soon as I can," he whispered in her ear, feeling a lump rise in his throat as reality came crashing back down upon him.

Gwenna nodded, her face buried against his shoulder. He could tell by the stiff way she held herself that she too had remembered the reason they were to be parted and was trying not to cry.

They stood together, desperate to spend these last few minutes safe in their own little world.

At last Conor sighed and released her. She clung to him for a heartbeat longer before she stepped back, raising her chin and straightening her shoulders resolutely. His heart swelled with pride at her strength, even as is dropped like a stone at the realization that the time had come for him to leave her.

"I love you," she said quietly, no trace of tears in her voice.

Conor bent his head and placed a quick, hard kiss against her mouth. "I love you, too."

He lingered only a moment longer, his hand caressing her cheek as he stared into her eyes. Then he whirled and left the room, his step firm and his back straight.

Left alone in her office, Gwenna watched him go. When the sounds of his footsteps faded away, she sank slowly back into her chair. The tears that she had held back now dropping, unheeded, down her face as she sobbed with her hand tightly pressed over her mouth to prevent any sound of her grief from escaping.

Dread filled her as she thought about the statistics and reports that she had been pouring over. She knew as well as he husband did what kind of odds awaited him in the north. The enemy that he would shortly be facing could easily crush their armies, despite the presumed advantage they held in numbers.

As her mind switched over to the dispassionate academics of their situation, her tears stopped. Picking up another pile of reports, she prepared to do everything in her power to make sure her husband came back to Glastonbury safely.

Several hours later, Gwenna dropped her pen and set her seal on the latest batch of orders. It wasn't much, but it was all she could do to help Conor and their soldiers survive the battle to come. Ringing for a courier, Gwenna sagged in her chair, pulling a shawl tightly around her shoulders, knowing it would take a miracle to avert disaster for Avalon.

As she waited for the courier to arrive, The Queen of Avalon placed a hand over her unborn child and prayed to the Fates that they would get that miracle.

* * *

Mathyn squinted around, sneering at the falling snow. They had managed to make it to the dead zone around the Labyrinth without too much trouble. Only a few villagers had noticed their passing as they made their way through the Goblin Kingdom, and they had been easily dispatched and distributed among his raiding party, never to be seen again.

He and the warband were concealed on the southeastern border of the dead zone. The massive boulders they crouched behind, surrounded by overgrown brush, were the best cover they had been able to find in the otherwise flat landscape. As they had moved into the Goblin Kingdom, Mathyn had split his warband, leaving just enough orcs with him to make for a decent fight while he sent the rest of them to harry Ethan and the centaurs. Their orders were to swing wide and come at them from behind, surrounding them and herding the group along, pushing them toward the Labyrinth as quickly as possible. The one time prince didn't want to give Ethan and the centaurs a chance to slow down and think about the possibility of an ambush up ahead. He wanted them to be running scared, too busy watching over their shoulders to notice any danger they might be running into.

Mathyn's original plan had been to ambush them much further from the actual Labyrinth, but there had been no way to conceal their presence as the terrain grew flatter and flatter along the ill defined border between the Goblin Kingdom and the centaur's plains. The few towns that dotted the area were visible for miles, as was the orcish warband. As each day brought both the warband and the wagon Sarah was concealed in closer to the Labyrinth, Mathyn's frustration rose and his temper frayed a little more.

The wind picked up, sending the falling snow whirling through the air and reducing visibility. Mathyn growled in irritation as the orcs with him muttered and hunched down behind the rocks. The dark Fae knew that the orcs were used to harsh conditions and they would be fit for battle regardless of the conditions they fought in. No, it was the caravan that he was worried about. He didn't want the weather to slow their progress. Even here, there was only so much he could do to keep their presence a secret. If Ethan and Samoth didn't show soon, they would be discovered by a wandering shepherd or a passing patrol.

He clenched his fists, which began to glow a sooty red as his magic rose with his displeasure. If those fools he sent to harry the caravan failed, then heads were going to roll.

His thoughts were interrupted when the sounds of a scuffle broke out behind him. Turning, he found several orcs locked in combat, which was growing louder and wilder as it escalated. Mathyn lashed the fighting orcs with his magic, eliciting pained cries from the combatants. All movement ceased as he strode into the center of the fray. The sudden stillness made the whistle of the wind through chinks in the rocks sound impossibly loud in cold winter air.

"What in the hell is going on here?" Mathyn asked, remembering just in time to keep from screaming.

"Took my food," grunted one orc. He pointed to a hunk of meat that looked like a very large, though rather slender, drumstick. A few shreds of cloth clung to the end of the shattered bone.

"Didn't!" shrieked the smaller orc, spitting on the ground at his opponents feet. "Lord of Shadows as my witness! I-"

Whatever he would have said was lost as Mathyn stepped forward and gripped him by the throat, cutting off his words. Although the orc was rather small, he was still easily half again as large as Mathyn himself. And yet, the slender Fae had no trouble lifting him clear off the ground. The orc found himself pinned against a boulder, staring into the dark depths of Mathyn's eyes. No trace of their usual blue could be seen, just blackness with a faint hint of a red glow.

Mathyn tightened his grip, pushing his victim against the rock and snapping his neck with a single, convulsive squeeze. Then he stepped back, dropping the body carelessly to the ground. Smoke rose from the dead orc's neck where the outline of Mathyn's hand could clearly be seen.

Mathyn turned to the second culprit who gulped visibly and took a half step back, his knees nearly giving out. The orc opened and closed his mouth several times, but no sound emerged but a faint gurgling. His entire body locked in fear as the waves of menace rolling off of the dark Fae washed over him.

The other orcs shifted uneasily and drew back in fear, not wanting to get between their leader and his prey. For several moments no one moved, then a low cry drew everyone's attention.

"Lord Mathyn!" the orc closest to him grunted.

He glanced at the creature. It pointed out into the swirling snow. "Scout."

A blurry shadow appeared in the distance, slowly resolving into an orcish scout, clearly sent ahead of the rest of the raiding party that had been tasked with harrying the caravan. As the orc jogged into their rough camp, mathyn strode forward to meet him.

"What news?"

"Caravan coming, My Lord." The orc was breathing hard, his breath visible in great steaming clouds around his tusked mouth.

"How far away are they? When will they arrive?" Mathyn asked eagerly, his eyes darkening again, but this time with excitement. Soon. She would be here soon. His pants grew tight at the idea that he might begin subduing his brother's woman this very night.

"Half hour, one at most," the orc panted.

A manic grin spread across Mathyn face. "Get ready!" he barked at the orcs around him. "There will be fresh meat tonight!"

A ragged cheer rose from the ranks of the orcs at his announcement. Mathyn ignored them and their preparations. His mind already full of Sarah. So close… so tantalizingly close.

* * *

The wagon swayed back and forth and Sarah thrashed on the bed, rolling from side to side in pain. They dare not stop to sedate her again, not with the orcs this close.

They had been pursued more and more closely with every mile they moved toward the Goblin Kingdom. Miraculously, they managed to stay ahead of the orcs stalking them, although Samoth knew that it must be part of some sort of plan.

Sarah moaned and muttered, broken phrases without coherence. The feel of the magic radiating off of her grew stronger as more and more time passed without her being fully sedated.

Samoth leaned over and rapped hard on the door of the caravan. Moments later, it opened and the cold, snow laden air whirled in. To Samoth's surprise, it wasn't Adelina's face that appeared in the door, it was Ethan's.

"What do you need?" Ethan asked, nearly yelling to be heard over the sound of the storm. Samoth noted that Ethan resolutely refused to look in the direction of the bed, despite the movement and sounds emanating from the rough palate.

"Can we stop?" Samoth asked. "She needs to be sedated again!"

"We can't! The storm's picking up and the enemy is close! We can't risk it!" Samoth looked beyond Ethan's bulk in the door to the snow shrouded landscape beyond. The General was right. Visibility was dropping by the minute and with the enemy closing in behind them, there was no way they would be able to see an attack coming before it hit them. They simply couldn't stop.

"Are we close?!" Samoth asked, his voice filled with anxiety. Beside him, Sarah shivered and moaned again.

Less than an hour to the closest fort!" Ethan yelled. "Once we get there and close ourselves in, I can activate the portal!"

Samoth nodded and sighed. "Alright General! Thank you, I'll do the best I can until then!"

Ethan nodded. He glanced fleeting at Sarah, who had her face turned to the wall, before he reached in and pulled the door shut firmly.

As the sounds of the storm diminished slightly, shut out of the well made caravan, Sarah's whimpers and half uttered sentences once more filled the space. When Samoth leaned over to check on her, she rolled over. To his surprise her eyes were wide open.

"Sarah?"

Her mouth moved but no sound came out. Her eyes remained fixed on the ceiling and Samoth realized that she couldn't see him. The feeling of magical energy grew stronger and tears began to slip down her temples.

Samoth placed a hand on her head and started to chant, using every ounce of skill he had to keep her calm and alive until they could safely stop to help her once more. Her lips moved again and he fell silent, continuing the chant in his mind as her voice rasped through her cracking lips.

"Jareth…" Her voice held none of the anger Samoth had grown used to hearing as they traveled. This was a plea, a soft cry filled with longing, and it broke his heart to hear it.

* * *

Jareth stood at the window, allowing the swirl of snowflakes as they fell from the lead colored clouds to mesmerize him. His skin stung as he shifted his weight, hyper aware of the feel of fabric against it. Yet another storm had moved into the city that afternoon and the swirling snow offered him a way to take his mind off his raw nerves as it drifted down over the gardens. He had been out in the storm for hours, working to keep the deterioration at bay, but he had been forced to return to the castle when the snowfall increased. He now found himself without an excuse, other than the ever increasing side effects that came with heavy magic use, to allow him to avoid spending time with his betrothed.

Belinda sat on the couch by the fire. She was doing her best to charm him, Jareth knew, but the more she tried the less he felt toward her. There was something off about her attentions to him. One moment, she would be warm and inviting, then she would pull back without warning, becoming cold and distant. Several times, Jareth thought he caught her looking at him with an expression of disgust.

"Will the snow never end?" Belinda complained.

Jareth sighed. He couldn't help but imagine how Sarah would react to being snowed in with him. He smiled involuntarily, his discomfort momentarily forgotten. Thoughts of a sexual nature aside, he was willing to bet that Sarah would have been able to find some sort of adventure to fill the time. At the very least, she would have been able to provide more interesting conversation than his current companion.

When she did not receive an answer to her complaint, Belinda huffed impatiently and rose from her seat to approach the window herself. Jareth heard her coming and tried to compose his features. Despite his best efforts, a smile still lingered as Belinda came up beside him.

"What's so amusing, Jareth?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Her lips compressed into a thin line as she stared at him.

Realizing that he had misstepped, Jareth tried to backpedal.

"Nothing of consequence," he amended. "I was just thinking of something that the goblins did last winter."

Belinda shivered slightly and glanced around at knee level, ensuring that there were no goblins in the room. "Ugh, never mind," she muttered, turning from the window and making her way back to the warmth of the fire.

Jareth rolled his eyes. Even if he intended to go through with this marriage, how did Belinda intend to rule the  _Goblin_  kingdom if she couldn't stand to be around the harmless little creatures?

"Shall I order us an early meal?" Jareth asked, more to change the subject than out of any desire to eat. He could see her reflection pouting in the window with her arms crossed. She didn't even bother to turn and face him as she spoke.

"I'm not hungry."

Jareth clamped his lips shut and turned from the window. He strode across the room, heading for the door. If she insisted on being a petulant brat, he was going to leave. He was in no mood to deal with it. When Sarah had been a brat, it was as endearing as it was infuriating, but Belinda had none of Sarah's charm. Instead, her antics were beyond annoying.

"Oh darling, Don't leave! I'm so sorry!" Belinda suddenly went from cold as a fish to warm and gushing again. Rising from where she had been sulking on the couch, she hurried to intercept him. She latched onto his arm, her nails sinking through his shirt sleeve to prick his flesh as she pulled him back to sit with her. He flinched. His nerves, burned raw by the massive amount of magic he was channeling every day, screamed at her touch.

"I know I've been a little out of sorts," she apologized, not noticing his obvious discomfort as he gave in and allowed her to pull him down onto the couch. It was all he could think of to keep her from drawing blood with the way her nails were digging into his arm. Every nerve in his entire arm was on fire, burning through his flesh as though he had plunged his arm into the flames that burned on the hearth across the room.

"I just find it so quiet and, uhm... boring here with all this weather keeping everyone away."

Jareth sat stiffly, waiting for the pain to subside while listening to her fumble her way through a list of excuses. He pondered how he could politely extricate himself. He wanted out- not only of the awkward situation, but of the whole damn mess of a relationship. He was honest enough to admit that he had not approached the relationship with anything resembling an open mind or unencumbered heart. Still, even if things had been different, her behavior since her arrival would have been enough to create problems that had nothing to do with him or his kingdom.

But things weren't different. He didn't care about this woman and he never would. Belinda was a constant reminder of what he had lost when he lost Sarah. He couldn't help but compare them and Belinda just didn't measure up. No one could, and that… that was his failing.

"... heard a word I've said!"

"I'm sorry, what?" Jareth was pulled out of his thoughts by the exasperated tone of Belinda's voice. Another petulant scowl settled over her face and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I said, you've been staring off into space this entire time and you haven't heard a word I've said!"

"My apologies, I'm just tired." It wasn't a lie. He was exhausted. The work in the Labyrinth was draining him far beyond his ability to recover every day. He'd lost weight and the dark circles and haggard look never left his face. It was taking Alex longer and longer to coax his body to heal itself after each session spent channeling magic into the Labyrinth. It wouldn't be long before he would have to rest, and then there was no telling how far the damage would spread while he was out of commission.

Belinda's scowl deepened and she opened her mouth. Whatever she was going to say was lost as the sound of someone pounding at a dead run up the hallway reached them. Moments later, a hobgoblin in a messenger uniform burst through the door, sending it swining against the wall with a crash.

"Your Majesty!"

Jareth stood, completely missing the look of disgust that crossed Belinda's face at the sight of the tall youth with the green skin and sharply pointed ears.

"Message," panted the hobgoblin, "Urgent message from General Ethan."

"Ethan! Where is he?" Jareth demanded, already striding toward the door.

"They're under attack!" The young Hobgoblin reported excitedly. "He and the centaurs caravan were heading for the southwest outpost when they were ambushed by orc raiders and-"

Jareth's imperious voice cut through the room, overriding whatever else the hobgoblin might have been about to say. "I'll be there right away. Have every elite fighter available ready to accompany me through the portal in five minutes!"

The Hobgoblin saluted smartly, his fist pounding against his chest before he turned and ran from the room to deliver the King's orders. Jareth summoned a crystal, ignoring the pain that lanced through his whole body as he used yet more magic. He dropped it to the ground and was instantly dressed in his battle armor, his sword already clenched in his fist.

He strode toward the door, his adrenaline already rising in anticipation of the fight to come. He was nearly through it when a voice rang out behind him.

"Jareth!"

The sound brought him up short. He had forgotten all about Belinda as soon as he heard the news that Ethan had found the centaurs. He turned back and bowed quickly.

"Apologies, My Lady, I have urgent business to attend to."

"I'll be waiting, Jareth. Come back safely."

He barely heard her as he strode out of the room, his thoughts already with Ethan and the caravan… and Sarah. She was here, and she was in danger.

_I'm coming, Sarah,_  he thought.  _This time, I'll be there when you need me._

* * *

 

A/N - Just a quick note here... I know this is an EPIC cliffhanger at a super critical point in the story, sorry about that. Just wanted to let you all know that Chapter 29 is in editing as I type this and Chapter 30 is underway. I won't leave you all hanging for long, promise!

* * *

Many thanks to everyone who bookmarked the story or left kudos. I am so gratified that you take the time to read my work!

 


	29. Sibling Rivalry

Disclaimer- Still nursing that fairy bite... still no rights to the Labyrinth. How come I see sparkles everywhere now?

A/N - See! I told you all I wouldn't leave you hanging for long. Reminder about the map over on deviantart. Go check out jenjen421 and leave her some love for her awesome map! I love her work so much!

This is one of the parts in the story that I have been just dying to get to, so I am excited to have finally gotten this far. So I'll post it as a late night present for you all to enjoy. Don't stay up too late, y'all!

Warning - Fantasy violence and battle scenes.

* * *

 

The wind whistled through cracks in the rocks, emitting an eerie wailing sound that echoed across the snow covered terrain. The hidden orcs gave no indication that they heard the sound, or even felt the snow that piled up around them as they crouched, utterly silent, behind the rocks and bushes. Staring out into the storm, they waited for their prey to fall into the jaws of the trap ready to spring on them.

Slowly, moving shapes became visible in the hazy distance. They grew closer and closer, resolving at last into individual entities rather than the amorphous mass they had seemed to be in the wind driven snow.

A closed wagon lumbered across the plain, surrounded and guarded by a mixed group of centaurs and hobgoblins. Close behind them came their pursuers, openly threatening them now that they were almost within striking distance of the ambushers waiting to spring from their concealment.

As the wagon approached, Mathyn stood, grinning maniacally. "I want that wagon!" he bellowed to the orcs that surrounded him. With guttural cries they surged out from their cover, converging on the wagon. There was a cry from the defenders and the wagon lurched as the beasts pulling it shied away from the oncoming noise and smells.

"Surround the wagon!" Ethan cried, spurring his horse to the head of the caravan. "Keep moving! We must make it to the King!"

Mathyn chuckled darkly. Ethan was outnumbered. He might hope to reach the Labyrinth and the help that it promised, but its walls were two miles away and their little caravan was surrounded. Mathyn's scouts had reported that there was nothing but empty terrain for miles and the caravan was alone. Trapped between the two halves of his raiding party, they were ripe for slaughter. Sarah would be his before the sun set behind the steel grey clouds.

Mathyn felt excitement rushing through him at the thought. His breathing hitched slightly as images of how he might be spending his evening swirled through his head. He glanced at the sky, trying to estimate the time. If all went well, they would be miles away come nightfall. Then his orcs would eat well and he would retire to the wagon, but he wouldn't be alone. With a short bark of laughter, Mathyn turned his attention to the imminent fight, jogging behind his underlings as they approached the slow moving wagon.

As his troops closed in, Mathyn watched the caravan put on a last burst of desperate speed before lurching to a halt, surrounded by orcs. Despite the long chase and their eagerness to begin the battle, the orcs held back, merely stopping the wagon without rushing its defenders. Mathyn felt a sense of satisfaction at that. They had remembered his orders.

"Give me the girl!" he called to Ethan, allowing his power to rise within him. The General was already struggling to control his mount in the face of the slavering mass of orcs that were only a stone's throw away. As the horse sensed the dark magic emanating from him, it grew even more restless.

Forced to endure the sense of evil that surrounded it, Ethan's horse reared in panic, trying to unseat its rider and flee, causing Mathyn to chuckle in amusement. Cursing and fighting the animal until it returned to the ground, Ethan managed to keep his seat- barely. The horse danced sideways, chewing at the bit until the foam dripped from its mouth. Slowly, Ethan brought the animal under control, but it remained skittish.

"I don't think so!" Ethan replied, his grip on the reins stiff and his voice tight.

Mathyn shrugged. "Pity. Why waste your life on one insignificant girl?"

"If she's so insignificant, why do you want her?" Ethan yelled back defiantly. "I won't be handing anyone over to you, traitor!"

Mathyn shrugged, the excitement in his eyes belying the nonchalant gesture. "Have it your way."

At his words, the orcs suddenly surged forward. They took only a few steps before yard long arrows were raining down on their ranks. Several orcs fell but most continued on, heading with grim determination toward their goal.

"Take them down!"

"Concentrate your fire!"

"Kill the traitor!"

That last command sent arrows streaking through the air toward Mathyn. Contemptuously, he swatted them aside before they reached him, the arrows bursting into flame and disintegrating as they flew harmlessly past. Drawing his blackened sword, Mathyn headed toward Ethan just as the first orcs reached the ranks of the hobgoblins braced to meet them.

The two groups met with a crash of weapons and the meaty thuds of fists and blades striking flesh. The orcs surged forward, trying to use brute force to break the circle of hobgoblins and get at the ranks of centaurs wielding staves and spears behind them. The wall of hobgoblins bowed briefly and Mathyn's excitement surged, only to be replaced with disappointment and anger when the defenders managed to hold their position.

Mathyn stalked through the chaos, striking down whatever enemy appeared in front of him as he moved toward the still mounted General. To his right, a hobgoblin went down with a gurgle, an orcish blade buried in his chest. The centaur behind him whipped his staff around his staff, knocking aside the mace that swung toward his chest. Mathyn used the moment the centaur was distracted to run him through. With a despairing cry, the centaurs long legs crumpled under him and he went down, his innards pouring from the slice in his abdomen. He quickly disappeared under the feet of the advancing orcs.

As the Fae prince advanced, so too did his orcs. Little by little, the ring of defenders around the wagon grew smaller. Hobgoblins and centaurs alike, their lives ended by the swing of a mace or the curved blades of their enemies, lay jumbled on the ground, trampled by the advancing orcs.

As the fight became even more desperate on the part of the defenders, Mathyn caught sight of Ethan's horse galloping away from the battle. He swore and was about to call for a pursuit when he noticed that the saddle was empty. Spinning around, he searched the mass of fighters, eager to know whether Ethan was still among the living. To deprive Jareth of his best friend and his woman in one day would be more than satisfying, it would be a down right triumph!

When he spotted General Ethan fighting on foot in front of the door to the wagon, his glee could hardly be contained.

"Ethan!" he roared, pointing his blade at the General.

That nearly proved to be Ethan's undoing as he was distracted from the orc in front of him for a crucial second. He barely got his own blade up in time to stop the murderous swipe of his opponents. Second later, another blade followed, aiming for his side.

Mathyn watched gleefully as Ethan twisted awkwardly out of the way. Striding forward, his power billowing around him like black flames, Mathyn shoved the orc sideways as Ethan stumbled away, sending the orc crashing into the middle of another fight nearby.

Ignoring the orc, Mathyn pursued the General, intent on his quarry.

Not waiting for Ethan to fully recover his balance, Mathyn swung his blade. Once more his opponent was able to block a murderous stroke to his head, but only barely. Faster than even he himself thought he was capable, Mathyn pulled his blade back and swung again, this time aiming low, hoping to catch a leg and maim Jareth's most trusted friend.

Miraculously, Ethan managed to avoid that stroke as well. An angry snarl erupted from his mouth as Mathyn twisted his face into a vicious sneer. Once more he directed a blow at his opponent. This time, he snaked his blade around Ethan's, forcing the General to step closer as their weapons locked.

Wrenching his own weapon to the side, Mathyn broke his opponents grip, sending his sword flying away through the falling snow. Reversing his motion, the dark Fae prince brought the pommel of his sword crashing against the side of Ethan's head.

Ethan crumpled to the ground and Mathyn let loose a scream of triumph. Using his foot, he turned the other man over, wanting to see the look on his face as death approached. Ethan groaned and his eyes fluttered open. Mathyn was gratified to see a look of horror and fear spreading over Ethan's face as he looked up at him.

"You should have given me Sarah. I might have let you live!" Mathyn taunted as he raised his blade to deliver the killing blow.

* * *

The sounds of fighting came intermittently, as though blown toward her vantage point by the wind and barely discernible over the crackle of the fire in which she watched the events. Once more in the rank, underground home of Goody Harran, Chiara and Stryan sat on either side of the roaring fire that the old woman had built to scry for Mathyn. Chiara had merely wanted to know where her Master was. They had not expected to be privy to his attempt to take Sarah.

"And this is happening right now?" Chiara asked.

Goddy Harran grunted. "Told you it was."

By her side, Stryan sat watching the events unfold in the dancing flames while playing with one of his many blades. He had come with her partly for moral support and partly because he was also interested in the whereabouts of Mathyn. Although Katie was no longer hostage to the dark Fae, he was still a danger to her, and Stryan wanted to know the minute he needed to get Katie to a safer location.

"I should have fought him harder," Chiara whispered, her voice full of self loathing as she watched the orcs push the troops defending the wagon back, closing their circle tighter and tighter.

"You did the best you could," Stryan told her quietly. He had found her shaking and wandering dazedly through the streets the morning after her mind had nearly been broken by her dreamtime encounter with the dark Fae. She had been right outside the Red Blade, staring at the door without seeing it for over an hour before Pete had taken pity on her and had someone fetch Stryan.

After much coaxing, Stryan had managed to drag the tale of her abuse from her, a little bit at a time. It was Stryan too, who had suggested they see Goody Harran again, coming every few days to have her discreetly scry for the disgraced Fae prince, something that was only possible because of the little nyxie's connection to him. Katie did not accompany them.

Chiara and Stryan both leaned toward the fire as their view changed again. This time, the fire showed a light haired Fae fighting on foot, doing his best to keep the attacking orcs from the brightly colored door of the wagon behind him. They watched as Mathyn closed in on him.

"Who's that?" Stryan asked as the two Fae traded blows.

"General Ethan," Chiara whispered, still afraid that Mathyn could hear her despite the protections Goody Harran had assured her were in place to prevent him from detecting and reversing the scrying spell.

As she watched the General fight Mathyn, she prayed to the Fates that he would put an end to her tormentor. Even if she herself died with him, Chiara would count it as a blessing to be free of that monster.

"General Ethan?" Stryan queried in an undertone.

"He's the Goblin King's right hand man."

As she spoke, Mathyn struck Ethan's blade away and knocked him to the ground with a howl of victory. Chiara's heart dropped as she watched him raise his blade. He paused to speak, but whatever he said was lost as the picture suddenly whirled and zoomed out crazily.

"What's happening!" Chiara cried out, shrinking away in fear. The image spun and they saw a flash of something that Mathyn did not.

"The Heart of Light comes to face that of Darkness…" Goody Harran intoned.

The Goblin King had arrived.

* * *

With a roar, the fresh troops from the Goblin Kingdom threw themselves at the unsuspecting backs of the orcs menacing the remaining defenders around the wagon. A ragged cheer went up from the beleaguered centaurs and hobgoblins. They attacked with new vigor, savagely ripping into the orcs now that hope had been rekindled in their hearts at the sight of reinforcements.

Jareth pushed toward the wagon in the center of the seething mass of fighters, oblivious to those who tried to charge him. He didn't even see his own troops acting as bodyguards, quickly engaging any who tried to approach their king. All he could think about was getting to Sarah as quickly as possible and getting her out of danger. She needed him and he would not let her down this time, no matter what.

He wasn't looking for Mathyn. The messenger that had fled the battle, cleverly hidden on Ethan's horse, had said nothing about him. Or perhaps he had and Jareth had been too wrapped up in his own thoughts to hear the warning. Regardless, there was no mistaking that voice, or the prickling sensation of that evil power that he had first felt on the night Mathyn turned traitor all those years ago. The moment he heard Mathyn's scream of success, Jareth stopped dead.

His heart sank even as his anger rose. If Mathyn was here, then Sarah was in even more danger than he'd suspected. Torn, Jareth alternately searched the area for Mathyn and looked toward the wagon where he assumed Sarah had taken refuge. It didn't take him long to find the threat. There, only a stone's throw away, Mathyn stood with his blade raised, ready to strike a figure on the ground.

Glancing once more at the wagon, Jareth turned aside and began running toward Mathyn. As he approached, he watched Ethan pull out a dagger in a useless defensive gesture as he lay on the ground at Mathyn's feet. Jareth's heartbeat came strangely loud in his ears as he saw the subtle tightening of muscles that indicated that Mathyn would strike in the next few moments.

Jareth felt as though he were moving in slow motion as he ran toward the two Fae. He saw the black blade beginning its descent toward his friend and pushed himself to move faster. Time slowed as he watched Ethan raise his dagger in a defensive position that would do nothing to stop the blade whistling toward his face.

Time seemed to snap back into place as Jareth lowered his head and plowed his shoulder into Mathyn, knocking him away and sending them both tumbling over the gore covered ground. The blackened blade that Mathyn bore flew out of his hand, dropping into the snow with a clatter and a faint, yet disturbing, sizzle that surprised Jareth. The impact knocked the breath from their lungs and Jareth fought to retain his hold on his own weapon as Mathyn lashed out, kicking him several time before extricating himself.

Mathyn was the first to regain his feet, scrambling nimbly across the ground the retrieve his lost weapon before Jareth could rise. Already too weary for even the massive quantities of adrenaline pumping through him to fully compensate, Jareth was slower to regain his footing. Knowing that every second was critical, he pushed his exhaustion aside and willed himself to move even faster as he came to his feet. He raised the sword that he had managed to retain into a defensive position and faced his opponent.

"Jareth," Mathyn sneered, his voice colder than the wind that whipped around them. "What a pleasant surprise. I had hoped to remain undetected this time. What tipped you off?"

Jareth's sword dropped slightly as he looked on his brother for the first time in years. The change in Mathyn was even more pronounced than it had been in Fialis all those years ago. There was something alien, almost feral, about his face that had not been there when he was a child. Chillingly, there was malice and cunning behind the wild look, as though you were being confronted by a storm made flesh and given the will and intelligence to consume the world.

"How could I not come to greet you... brother?" he asked. It was the first time he had acknowledged their kinship in decades and it felt strange, yet oddly comfortable at the same time.

Something almost like regret flashed briefly over Mathyn's face as Jareth called him brother. Then it was gone, replaced with a hard stare and contemptuous sneer.

"Save the prodigal son speech, Jareth. I don't need or want your forgiveness, so you can just shove it up your ass." A shadow passed over Mathyn's face as he spoke, distorting his features for a moment before dissipating.

"No speeches, brother," Jareth replied grimly. "This isn't the time or the place."

He offered his brother his hand. "Come with me, Mathyn. We can go to Fialis together. There you can have the welcome you deserve. Father is keen to see you."

Mathyn's face contorted at the mention of their father. "That pompous ass? What a bore."

Jareth dropped the hand that he had offered, his face set in grim lines as he watched his brother raise his sword. They stalked around each other, Jareth moving right while Mathyn sidled to the left. Their eyes remained locked on each other's face, deadly intent in both sets of ice blue eyes. As they circled each other, Jareth stepped back, away from the wagon, leading Mathyn further from Sarah which each turn.

Mathyn was the first to attack. His blade shot out, sliding toward Jareth's head. Jareth leaned away and brought his own blade up, parrying his brother's probing strike. The Goblin King did not return the blow, despite his raging fury that Mathyn would dare threaten Sarah. The time would come for an attack. Right now, he needed him to talk.

"You've been rather busy, brother. Making new friends?" Another circle, and another few feet appeared between Cieran's sons and the wagon.

Mathyn's face twisted into a taunting grin. "Jealous, brother? You were always the center of attention wherever we went. Now I have more who obey my every word than you could even dream of!"

Jareth snorted disdainfully. "Hardly jealous. Unlike you, I don't desire to have the adoration of everyone I meet, and I certainly don't want to be fawned all over by scum like this. What in the Underground made you decide that aligning yourself with this riffraff was a good idea?"

"A means to an end, brother. Simply a means to an end."

"What end?" Jareth asked, feigning curiosity as he slowly induced Mathyn to put yet more distance between them and the caravan.

"Didn't that old bitch give you my message, Jareth? I want it all, of course."

When he judged that he had led Mathyn as far as he could Jareth stopped circling and planted his feet for an attack. He had orchestrated their movements just right. Jareth now stood between Mathyn and the caravan, blocking his access to the wagon and forcing Mathyn to go through him to get to Sarah.

"You're breaking Mother's heart, you know."

Mathyn's face grew florid at the mention of their mother. "Fuck you, Jareth!" he spat venomously. "Just because Mother always favored you doesn't mean that you can have any woman you want. I'll have what I came for, even if I have to drag her out of that wagon over your corpse!"

Jareth was unprepared for the flare of power that suddenly erupted from his brother's form. The stench of the Bog washed over him as Mathyn's eyes went dark. Sooty red power gathered around the dark haired Fae and his blackened blade flickered with magical flames as he attacked in earnest.

Jareth met Mathyn's headlong charge with his blade raised. Their weapons clashed together and the power emanating from Mathyn nearly overwhelmed him. Shoving his brother back, Jareth tapped into the power of the Labyrinth, surrounding himself with it's protection, regardless of the fact that it would weaken the barriers he had put up. To his surprise, the presence of the Labyrinth's magic seemed to dampen the intensity of the magic rolling off Mathyn.

His brother attacked him again, swinging his arm in a wild overhand chop that left his torso completely exposed. Jareth ignored the obvious opening, expecting that Mathyn was trying to bait him, and parried the blade. He followed it up with a counterattack that brought his weapon around for a swipe at his brother's side.

Mathyn avoided his blade and attacked wildly again, coming in close and leaving obvious holes in his defenses, as though he were daring Jareth to kill him. Either that or he had forgotten all of the painstaking training they had received as boys. Mathyn had always been just as good with a sword as Jareth, maybe even better, but it seemed as though he had lost it all in his rage. Instead of taking advantage of this, Jareth parried the blow and sank his fist into his brother's solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. Despite everything that had happened, Jareth didn't want to kill him yet, he wanted him alive to answer for his crimes.

Faster than Jareth thought was possible, Mathyn recovered from the blow and was coming at him again. Jareth blinked rapidly and forced his body to respond. The use of magic was beginning to tell on him. He was tired and in pain. He blocked another wide swing, only to have his head snap back as Mathyn also brought his fists into play, cracking him in the jaw. The dark magic Mathyn was wielding hissed and spattered against the magic of the Labyrinth, trying to take root in his flesh and burn, only to be foiled.

"Cut the shit, Mathyn! It's over! Don't make me hurt you!" Jareth snarled as he recovered from the blow and dropped into a crouch. His eyes narrowed as he watched Mathyn for any clue as to when the next attack would come.

Without warning an arrow sliced between them, grazing Mathyn's arm and ripping a bloody line through his flesh. The pain seemed to throw him off and he staggered back, shaking his head and looking around as though he didn't quite remember where he was. Jareth stilled as well, but resisted the urge to look for the source of the missile. Taking his eyes off of Mathyn now would be a very grave mistake.

He did become aware that the sounds of battle were slowly starting to taper off around them. The clash of weapons was being replaced by the moans and cries for help from the wounded. When Mathyn continued to stare around with his blade held loosely at his side, Jareth chanced a quick scan of the area without losing sight of his brother. Fewer and fewer orcs remained standing, a circumstance which suddenly seemed to dawn on Mathyn as well.

"This isn't over," Mathyn hissed.

"It seems to be," Jareth replied with a shrug.

Without warning, Jareth saw Mathyn's eyes go dark. Points of red light appeared, gleaming as they gazed out on him. The feeling of menace and the awful stench he had smelled earlier rolled over him again, making him gag.

"She's mine."

It wasn't Mathyn's voice that came out of his distorted features. Or rather, it was, but it was overlaid with another, deeper and more malevolent than anything that could possibly have come from Mathyn's form naturally.

"You may have her for now, but I will ultimately take what I want from her. The path you are on leads to destruction and death. Your love will bring about the end of  _both_  your worlds."

"You lie," Jareth spat. There was something so fundamentally  _wrong_  about that voice; something so evil and alien that the hair on the back of his neck prickled even as a feeling of panic rose within him. He raised his sword, his grip so tight that his knuckles were white, and prepared to attack again.

A chilling laugh echoed across the snow covered ground. "Perhaps... Until next time, Goblin King." The darkness leached out of Mathyn's eyes and the unnatural stench dissipated as it did so. Mathyn seemed to sag for a moment, only to jerk himself up and glare at Jareth once more.

"You can't keep me from what's mine!" Mathyn shrieked. His voice sounded thin and insubstantial after the unnatural presence that had taken over him.

"She's not yours," Jareth said shortly, "and neither is our father's crown." He stepped toward Mathyn, sword ready, intending to take him into custody.

Mathyn retreated, his face a curious mixture of avarice and pleading. "It's mine! She's mine!" He raised his sword again as he grew even more agitated. "Everything you have should have been mine!"

Without warning, Mathyn whirled and began to run, screaming, "It's been foretold! I will have her and everything else that should have been mine!"

"Take him! Don't let him get away," Jareth yelled, starting after the fleeing figure of his brother. The mixed group of centaurs and his own troops that had been silently watching the exchange between the brothers was suddenly spurred into action. Arrows were loosed and hobgoblin and centaur alike started after the fleeing Fae.

Mathyn turned and pointed his sword as Jareth, heedless of both the arrows falling around him and his pursuers. "This will go badly, Jareth! Your selfishness will be the end of the Underground!"

Then, between one moment and the next, swirling black and red magic surrounded him. When it cleared, Mathyn was gone.

* * *

Jareth swore as Mathyn disappeared. Slamming his sword into its scabbard, he turned toward the troops massed at his back.

"Shall we search for him, Your Majesty?" asked an unfamiliar centaur with black hair and heavily muscled arms.

"Don't bother. You won't find him, he's gone." Jareth said shortly.

He released the magic of the Labyrinth, feeling it sting across his raw nerves as he allowed it to flow back into the swirling eddies of magic that washed through and around the Labyrinth. His head grew light and his vision swam for a moment as his exhaustion returned full force.

"Jareth!"

Shaking his head to clear it, the Goblin King turned to his General. "Ethan," he said with a smile of relief.

Ethan was only slightly the worse for his near brush with death. An impressive lump was forming where he'd been struck by Mathyn, but it was nothing that a good healer couldn't see to in short order. The two men clasped hands, pounding one another on the back in joy and relief.

"I can't remember the last time I saw you run so fast!" Ethan remarked with a wry laugh.

"I didn't think I'd reach you in time," Jareth admitted.

The creaking of the caravan door drew their attention. When Elder Samoth emerged, looking worried, Jareth bowed.

"Elder, welcome to the Goblin Kingdom."

Samoth waved away his welcome. Looking around, he beckoned to a young centaur girl with a roan colored coat.

"She needs help, Adelina, now. Find the healers!" Several other centaurs came around the side of the wagon and lifted out a litter as Jareth stared, trying to comprehend what was going on.

A small formed writhed among the blankets piled on the litter, moaning in pain. Wisps of magic floated about her and the centaurs began to chant as soon as the litter was set on the ground.

"Sarah?" Jareth whispered. Ethan grasped his shoulder as Jareth tried to start toward the group now huddled around Sarah; working quickly to sedate her and get her out of the cold.

"It's not good, Jareth. Let them work on the girl. Don't interfere." Jareth wrenched away from him and Ethan lost his grip. Jareth stumbled forward, not seeing anything but the small figure on the litter. Ethan tried to grab him again but missed.

"Rogan, stop him!"

The heavily muscled centaur who had wanted to search for Mathyn stepped in front of him, blocking his access and his view of Sarah. "Your Majesty, let the healers help her. She doesn't have much time left. Better to see her when she is sedated." he said awkwardly, obviously not used to addressing royalty, much less giving them bad news.

"Not much time left? What's going on!? What happened? Let me see her!"

Jareth was yelling now, trying to push past the centaur blocking his way. The centaur, Rogan, crossed his arms and planted his feet but said nothing.

"Calm yourself, Jareth. You will do Sarah no good by coming to her angry." Elder Samoth's voice sounded from his left.

Jareth turned to the ancient centaur. "What happened!?" He glared around at the various centaurs that stood about, trying not to meet his eyes. "If you've done something to her then I swear-"

"She lost control of the power placed within her when she learned of your betrothal," Samoth told him bluntly, cutting off his threat before he could finish. "The power is flaring out of control. She's dying."

Jareth felt the blood drain from his face. Dying? Sarah knew of his betrothal to Belinda? She lost control? He struggled to make sense of it all. Slowly he shook his head, trying to deny the truth of what the Elder was saying. He began to breathe hard as panic slowly uncurled in his belly.

"No…"

A sudden scream of agony from the litter on the ground snapped him into action. Rushing past the centaurs that tried to block his way, Jareth shouldered his way through the crowd, ignoring the magic that flitted across his skin as it poured out of Sarah, burning his nerves like fire.

The sight of Sarah, her back arched in agony and her face covered with sweat and tears stopped him cold. Healers were trying to force some concoction down her throat but she was fighting them every step of the way. Her limbs were tangled in blankets that were starting to show wet patches where the falling snow had melted, saturating the felt. Her heavy hair was plastered to her head and her heated face was pale, save for the flush of fever that marred her cheeks.

One of the healers reached out with the cup of liquid. Sarah flailed again, her arm knocking the cup, spilling the hot contents over her chest and shoulder. She shrieked in pain and struggled to be free of the blankets wrapped around her.

"Sarah!" His cry was strangled as horror filled him for the pain she was enduring. He knelt at her side. Her eyes were open, but she didn't see him. Her fever was out of control and she was obviously in a delusional state. She muttered and mumbled, occasionally crying out in pain as he joined the centaurs in trying to calm her.

A hand closed over his shoulder and Jareth looked up to see Samoth standing over him.

"Take her and go, Jareth! She needs to get to the Labyrinth, it's the only place she has a chance!"

Jareth nodded. He reached down and lifted Sarah easily into his arms. She seemed to settle somewhat as she was lifted free of the blankets that had cocooned her. Without them, she immediately began to shiver violently, instinctively huddling into him for warmth.

"Ethan! Escort our guests to the Labyrinth as quickly as possible," Jareth called. "I'm going ahead with Sarah!"

"Is that wise?" Ethan asked, starting forward. "I don't think you should be alone with her."

Jareth ignored his friend and steeled himself against the pain before drawing on the magic that surrounded them. He didn't bother with a crystal. He merely pulled the magic to him and thought of where he wanted to go before closing his eyes and releasing the magic.

He and Sarah disappeared.

Ethan sighed and turned to Rogan and Samoth. "We'd better hurry, it's cold as death and we have wounded to take care of." Slowly, helped by the reinforcements from the Goblin Kingdom, the remnants of the caravan gathered the dead and wounded and made their way toward the hidden outpost and the portal to the Castle Beyond the Goblin City.

* * *

After Jareth left, Belinda considered seeking out her lover. They had little time together these days. It seemed as though she was always watched or accompanied by someone. In the rare moments she did find herself alone, she was usually expected somewhere within a few minutes and had no time for such assignations. She was already beginning to chafe against the expectations placed on her as the future Goblin Queen and she wasn't even married yet. It did not bode well for her happiness once she was united to Jareth.

In the end, she decided against a quick tryst. She had no way of knowing when Jareth would be back. She couldn't afford to be distracted when he returned. With luck, he would be one of those men whose battle high would turn into lust once the fighting was over. She made a face of revulsion at the thought but hurried to her chamber. If she had to seduce the Goblin King, she wanted to be ready.

When she had completed her preparations, she wandered out of her room, wondering where best to wait for Jareth's return. Deciding on the throne room, Belinda walked slowly toward it, keeping an eye out for those loathsome little goblins as she went. Those pests seemed to be everywhere and took great delight in popping up unexpectedly, scaring the hell out of her each time. She frowned and wondered if she would be able to banish them from her presence once she was really Queen here.

She was only about halfway to the Throne Room when the castle servants began running about, carrying items and yelling to one another.

Belinda managed to catch one of them saying something about Jareth being in the healers offices. Changing her mind about waiting for him, Belinda hurried toward Alex's domain. As she walked, she idly wondered if Jareth had been injured. She rather hoped he had. It would give her a chance to tend to him during his convalescence and keep her from having to sleep with him until he was well again. She knew her father wouldn't be happy and that it was only putting off the inevitable, but she hoped for it all the same.

The closer she got to the rooms where Alex customarily saw patients, the more activity there was. Stopping a young elven apprentice she asked, "Where is the King?"

"In the Chief Healer's main exam room, my Lady." The girl bobbed a quick curtsey before darting off to complete whatever errand she had been on.

Belinda headed for Alex's office. As she approached the door, she slowed down. She was considering how best to greet Jareth when his voice rang out from around the half closed door.

"You have to save her, Alex!"

Peeking around the door, Belinda could see Jareth pacing back and forth beside the bed. Alex was bent over a figure that thrashed and moaned atop the covers. She couldn't see the person on the bed very well, but Jareth's manner told her everything she needed to know about who it was.

It was his little mortal whore.

Belinda's face hardened. She couldn't let him get away with bringing his pet human here. She had a reputation to uphold, not to mention a task to complete. Failure was not an option and having that girl here was going to make it all but impossible for her to get Jareth's attention long enough to seduce him if the rumors were true.

She was about the push the door open when the sounds of hurried footsteps and Diona's voice floated down the corridor. She glanced around, not wanting to be caught crouched outside the door like some spying servant girl. Seeing an empty exam room across the hall, Belinda darted into it, shutting the door nearly all the way. She left it open a crack. It was just enough for her to see Diona hurry into the room with Jareth, Alex, and the girl.

When the coast was clear, she crept across the hall once more. The door to the other room had been pushed nearly closed. She could no longer see what was going on within the room, but she could still hear every word that was said.

Leaning against the wall next to the door, Belinda listened with growing outrage to what was going on within.

 


	30. The King's Heart

Disclaimer- I own nothing of the original characters or the Labyrinth as depicted in the movie. I do not profit in any way from this story.

A/N - What? You're unhappy with my straightforward disclaimer? Well I can't always have an entertaining little quip up there for you. Sometimes I just need to get information out. I can't always be amusing!

So this chapter didn't take me very long to pull together, despite its length. I've combined the content that used to be Chapter 30 and Chapter 31 so as not to make you wait another chapter for the conclusion to Sarah's illness. Making you wait didn't really serve any purpose and I've got other things to cover in the last part of the story.

Map - Available on devaintart on the profile of JenJen421. Link to it can be found on my profile on deviantart as well. Seriously, leave the artist some love for this piece. It's amazing!

Warning - Crude Language and mild groping.

* * *

Unlike the last time Jareth attempted this sort of travel with Sarah, the magic worked perfectly. They appeared in the exam room reserved for his Chief Healer only moments after disappearing from the battlefield. Jareth staggered a little once the room materialized around them, grunting as the backlash of magical transportation hit him, flaying his nerves once more.

"Your Majesty!"

Jareth whirled around, clutching Sarah protectively against his chest. To his surprise, Alex was already present in the room. In his arms, Sarah whimpered in protest at his tightened grip. Jareth eased his hold but ignored Alex as he gestured for the King to place her on the waiting bed. Every moment that he held her strengthened his instinctive response to guard and protect the woman he saw as his.

Another surge of magic suddenly poured out of her unconscious form. Sarah opened her mouth to scream but no sound emerged. Jareth felt his own pain like a faint echo of hers as the magic washed over him. At a loss as to what to do, Jareth could only hold her closer attempt to comfort her, regardless of the pain the magic was causing him.

"It's going to be ok, Sarah. I'm here. You're going to be fine now," he whispered hoarsely into her hair. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and closed his eyes briefly. Her obvious suffering and weakness caused another type of pain to shoot through him. The thought of losing her just as he had her back was unbearable. Even in his mind he couldn't even begin to admit that she might die.

"Over here, Jareth." Alex's voice cut through his thoughts from across the room. Jareth turned toward the healer and blinked in surprise. Alex was generally too formal to use his name like that. In the healer's face Jareth saw a depth of understanding and compassion that he had not expected from the quiet and usually stoic medical scholar.

Alex beckoned to him and then gestured toward the bed. "Put her here."

He hesitated for a moment, fighting his instincts before common sense took over. Alex wanted to help Sarah. As much as Jareth would have liked to simply hold her forever, it wasn't going to do her any good. Striding across the room, Jareth gently placed her on the bed, smoothing the sweat soaked hair back from her face as he reluctantly released her. He stood helplessly next to the raised bed, watching as Alex briefly examined Sarah.

The healer paused and moved away from the bed. Stepping toward the door, Alex called out, "Anna!"

An elven girl in the robes of an apprentice appeared in the doorway. "Yes, Alex?"

"Fetch a basin of cool water and some towels. We need to bring her fever down if we can. Also, have someone fetch Diona. I think we are going to need her."

The girl bobbed a quick curtsey and whirled around, moving quickly out the door and pulling it half closed as she did so.

Jareth barely saw Alex return to the bedside. He had not moved since he placed her on the bed and claimed one of her hands, holding it gently between his own gloved ones. As Alex continued with the examination, Jareth watched the proceedings with anxious eyes, willing the healer to hurry through the meticulous examination.

Several more minutes passed and Alex made no comment. Jareth felt the tension in the room rising with each passing moment. There was no sound save for the rustling of the bedclothes as Sarah moved sporadically on the bed and the small vocalizations she made that were usually brought on by another spasm of pain.

When Alex came around the bed and pushed him gently away from Sarah, Jareth grew impatient. He began to pace at the foot of the bed, dragging his hand through his unkempt hair.

"You have to save her, Alex!"

Alex was silent for several moments longer. Eventually, the healer turned away from Sarah with a grim expression. "She is extremely weak. Does she have any family Underground?"

The sorrowful tone and the finality in the healer's voice pulled Jareth up short. A feeling of despair flooded him as he shook his head in silent disbelief.

Alex took one look at him and pulled out a chair. "Maybe you should sit down, Jareth."

Blindly, Jareth turned away from the offered seat and moved to Sarah's side once more. He stood there, looking down on her, his mind blank save for the awful realization that she was dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear Diona enter the room, followed by the apprentice, who placed the items Alex had asked for on a table next to the door before leaving.

"Jareth." Diona's hand closed around his arm but he shook her off.

"Why did you do this, Diona? This is your fault." Jareth was shocked by the acrimonious sound of his own voice. Stepping away from the old priestess, he once more attempted to comfort Sarah, wishing that he could offer to share what little remained of his own strength with her. Instead, all he could do was tend to her as another fit overtook her.

Diona sighed, seemingly unfazed by the venom in his previous statement "It had to be done, Jareth. I'm sorry."

"Excuse me," Alex interrupted. "I don't understand. How is this the Revered Priestess' fault?"

Diona sighed. "Please just call me Diona, Alex. We don't really have time for such formalities."

Alex nodded as Diona continued. "And Jareth is correct, I did do this to her. I was instructed by the Labyrinth itself to make myself a conduit to give her the power she was going to need. I didn't realize it at the time, but the Labyrinth pushed far more power through to her than I had expected. If I had known, I might have refused..." She trailed off as she looked sorrowfully at Sarah's feverish form.

Alex looked shocked. "How did a mortal girl, who was obviously ill to begin with, manage to hold so much power for so long without losing control and dying before now? It shouldn't have been possible."

"She isn't exactly your average mortal," Diona admitted with a glance at Jareth. He was only peripherally aware of the conversation of the others in the room as he stared down at Sarah, most of his attention focused on her.

Alex's thin eyebrows rose. "Oh? She looks fairly normal to me. Despite signs of a long standing illness and the obvious effects of carrying far too much power for far too long, she appears to be your average mortal girl."

Diona sighed and looked consideringly at the healer. After several moments she seemed to come to a decision. She shot him a severe look. "This doesn't go beyond this room, Alex."

Alex snorted indelicately and gave them a wry smile. "I'm familiar with the need for discretion when it comes to my patients, Diona."

Jareth turned as Sarah slipped back into a relatively calm state. "This goes a little bit beyond that, Alex."

"All right." The healer held up a hand in a placating gesture. "I understand. So what's the big secret?"

"Sarah is the direct descendant of William the Wise," Diona said.

Alex's eyes widened and the healer glanced involuntarily at the dying young woman on the bed. "She's the Airíoch?"

* * *

Belinda stifled a gasp as she listened to the stunning revelation. Of all the things that could have been said in that moments, this was so far from what she had expected that it took her several moments to convince herself that she hadn't misheard. As far as everyone in the Underground knew, that family line had disappeared centuries ago. To have one of them appear now seemed utterly unbelievable.

Along with this revelation came another thought. What was Jareth's relationship with the girl? His behavior made it obvious that he had feelings for the little mortal, but if she was truly of the line of William the Wise, then the girl had legitimate status here in the Underground. With a sinking heart, it dawned on her that Sarah was a serious threat to her and her position. She was now caught between her father, heading the Collective, and Jareth, backed by Diona and the Council. Her own future was now threatened by events that she had no control over. She ground her teeth as white hot fury shot through her. It was all that little mortal tramps fault.

She heard Diona's voice from the other side of the door and it pulled her back from her angry thoughts. She needed to refocus her attention if she hoped to come out of all this with her pride and position intact. Trying not to make any noise, Belinda shifted her weight to bring her even closer to the door and listened, hoping to hear something that would give her an edge that she could use.

"... can tell, the Caretakers left the Underground when they were forced out of the Labyrinth. They went Above, living among the mortals…"

Belinda's mind wandered again when she didn't hear anything of value to her. She began to consider how to get Jareth alone as soon as possible. It was obvious that she had run out of time with Sarah's arrival. His attention was likely to be even more divided than it had been up to now. She clenched her fists. Failure was not an option. She needed to cement her place at Jareth's side, which meant that she had to be the one to provide him with an heir. The sooner the better.

A sudden flurry of activity within the room drew her attention again.

"Sarah!" Jareth cried out as the sounds of someone thrashing about drifted out into the hallway. "Please hold on, Precious."

"Jareth! Hold her, don't let her hurt herself," the healer said loudly, struggling to be heard over the sounds of agony coming from the mortal girl.

"I'm trying," Jareth said grimly. "Sarah! Sarah, it's ok. I'm here. I've got you."

"Jareth!" Sarah called, her voice full of pain and anger.

"I'm right here, Precious." Jareth's voice was thick as he spoke. His tone changed and he snapped, "Isn't there anything you can do?"

"I'm trying!" Alex retorted. The healer began chanting and Diona's voice shortly joined in. Slowly the sounds of thrashing stopped.

A strange sensation washed over Belinda, like the pins and needles that came with a lack of blood flow but not contained within one limb. It was affecting her whole body as she leaned against the wall outside the room. It confused her for a moment until she realized that she could actually see wisps of magic pouring out of the room, oozing around the door. Her eyes widened at the sight. This was wild magic - completely untamed. The girl was dangerous in her current state. She needed to get out of here.

With one last look at the door and the magic escaping from within the room, Belinda fled. She needed to contact her father for further instruction and prepare to complete her mission as soon as she could catch Jareth alone. No matter what it took, she had to bear his child.

* * *

As Sarah settled into a tenuous semblance of control on the bed, still muttering and tossing about, Jareth turned to the others.

"Is there anything we can do?"

Neither Alex nor Diona would meet his eyes.

"Well?" he demanded. "Can't we remove the magic, or siphon it off? I could do it, I'm used to handling this much magic-"

"No!" Alex objected, springing forward with his hand outstretched. "I can't allow you to do that, Jareth, even if it would work. You are too close to killing yourself with the magic you've been handling as it is. In any case, it won't work. The magic has been with her too long. It's become a part of her. Removing it now would kill her even faster than leaving it alone."

Jarth's shoulders slumped in defeat. "So that's it? We're just going to give up and watch her die!? I can't! I won't! Samoth said that she had a chance here in my kingdom! There has to be some way to help her. I- I-"

"This is my fault," Diona reiterated quietly, interrupting Jareth's desperate rant. Her face was streaked with tears and she looked suddenly older, her many years seeming to come to rest on her frame all at once. She walked slowly to the side of the bed and slumped down in the chair that Alex had pulled over for Jareth.

"How could I have failed my daughter so badly again?" she wailed, distress creasing her face as she leaned over Sarah, wiping the sweat and tears from the young woman's face. Both Jareth and Alex looked at her in confusion.

"Deirdre?" Jareth asked. "What does Sarah have to-" He broke off to stare at Sarah for a moment before looking back at Diona, sitting next to him as he stood at the side of the bed.

"I didn't see it before. How could I have missed it?" Now that he saw it, it was incredibly obvious. Sarah looked very much like her mother! He thought back to the gravestone in the cold and rain. Deirdre. He had been standing next to her grave and hadn't even realized it.

"See what?" Alex asked, still confused.

Diona, tears streaming down her face, took Sarah's temporarily limp hand in her own. "Sarah is my granddaughter," she admitted to Jareth. "And I failed her, just like I failed Deirdre."

Diona turned away from the rest of the room. Jareth watched her stroke Sarah's damp hair. "My Sarah... How could I have let this happen to you? You're all I have left."

Anger rose in Jareth, hot and sudden. "How could you?" he hissed at Diona. "You knew she was your granddaughter and you let her be treated the way she was all those years? Sent to their hospitals and treated like trash because they thought she was insane? Why didn't you help her?"

His lip curled in disgust. "Why did you leave her on her own for years? And Deirdre, your own daughter!? Did you leave her to die on her own, too?"

Diona looked up, anger and sorrow mixing in her eyes as she confronted his furious accusations. "I didn't believe Deirdre when she said she had a calling Above. I was angry that she planned to leave, that she refused to stay and take over the task of rebuilding the Abbey and the order. So I told her I was done with her. I turned her out and refused all her attempts to contact me. She grew angry and disappeared, even going so far as to change her name Above. I suppose that was some sort of final jab at me, or maybe it was simply another attempt to remain anonymous in order to stay safe. I doubt I'll ever know for sure what her motives were. By the time I was ready to forgive her and was able to track her down it was too late. She had already passed away and Sarah was eight or nine years old. I did the best I could to keep an eye on Sarah, but there was no way I could remove her from her family. I was a stranger! It wasn't until you came into her life that I even realised what Deirdre had done in joining herself to Sarah's father! I thought she had simply fled her responsibilities. It wasn't until Sarah ran the Labyrinth and won that I understood."

"Wait!" Alex interjected. "So Sarah has Fae blood on both sides, and recent Fae blood from her mother?"

Diona and Jareth both nodded and Alex looked thoughtful.

"It appears that way." Jareth said, glaring at Diona. "Why did you keep this from me?"

Diona shook her head and sighed, glancing at Sarah as she moaned in pain once again. "Sarah is the product of two very powerful Fae family lineages. From her mother she is descended of the Priestesses of the Croí Foise, keepers of the most powerful magic in the Underground. From her father she inherited the blood and position of William the Wise. As both the hereditary Guardian of the Labyrinth and a High Priestess in her own right, she has immense power and potential. The danger of her being misused, or worse- killed, was too great. The fewer who knew about it, the better. Even you, Jareth."

Jareth's eyes blazed. "Did you think I couldn't be trusted? How could you think I would hurt or misuse her? Haven't I proven, over and over, that I-"

"This isn't helping Sarah!" Alex yelled, cutting Jareth off and startling Diona out of whatever retort she had been about to make. They both looked at the talented young healer in shock for a few seconds before looking away in embarrassment.

Jareth felt his face heat in shame. Alex was right. None of this was helping Sarah.

"Now," Alex continued. "I understand why Sarah was able to carry this much power for so long. Her own innate power, although dampened by her mortal form, is what kept her strong enough to contain the extra magic without losing control. Even so, it couldn't keep it contained forever. Her mortal form is still just that - mortal. Her body is finally too weak to contain the power any longer. Even her own personal magic is beginning to flare out of control."

"So what are you saying?" Jareth demanded.

"She needs a stronger form to contain the power. It's bonded to her own magic and there is no way to rid her of it any longer." Alex looked from Jareth to Diona the other, face serious.

"She needs to be baptized in the Croí Fionse." Diona said, nodding.

"I'm not sure she's strong enough anymore," Alex cautioned as the hope spread across Jareth's face. "In any case, we can't take such a step without the full support of the Council."

"I don't-" Jareth began, only to be interrupted by a whimper of pain from the bed. As they turned to Sarah her back arched and she writhed on the bed, another huge flare of magic ripping from her. It flooded out over them, stinging and burning as it went. Jareth flinched back, hissing with pain as the magic stung his already raw nerves.

All three instinctively backed away from the bed, helpless to do anything to stop agony of the young woman who thrashed atop the covers, shrieking and sobbing.

"We have to do something, now!" Jareth yelled.

"It could kill her!" Alex replied, also yelling over Sarah's cries. "Besides, we don't have the approval of the Council. No one uses the Croí Foinse without the go ahead from the High King and his Council as well as the blessing of the Priestesses!"

They glanced at Diona, who nodded. "I certainly won't withhold my blessing."

"Still," Alex said, "We need to contact the Council first!"

Jareth stood, momentarily uncertain as he listened to the back and forth between Diona and Alex. He was caught on the brink between his duty and his desire. The consequences for unauthorized use of the Croí Foinse were severe. Even for him, it was a huge risk.

"Jareth," Sarah sobbed, "Please, Jareth…"

The moment she called for him, sobbing, he made up his mind. He didn't care what the ruling bodies of the Underground had to say. He didn't care if they threw him off the Council, took his throne, and banished him from the Realms. None of that mattered any longer. Only Sarah mattered to him, consequences be damned.

"Jareth! Stay back!" Alex called as he started for the bed.

Jareth ignored him and pushed on, fighting the magic that rippled out from Sarah and the pain that it caused him. His skin heated and started to blister as he reached her side. He saw the pain he felt mirrored on Sarah's face a thousandfold as he lifted her off the bed. Her body was burning up, her skin blistering and weeping much as his own was in the face of so much untamed magic. Her lips were cracked and bleeding and she stared up at him, unaware of where she was. She shivered uncontrollably despite the immense amount of heat she was surrounded with.

"You can't do this!" Alex yelled. "The Council-"

"Fuck the Council!" Jareth screamed at the Chief Healer, tearing his eyes away from Sarah's face. He knew full well that both his words and his intended actions were tantamount to high treason, but he was beyond caring. He had to save Sarah. "This is my Kingdom and I'll do as I see fit! I will not let the woman I love die while I wait on bureaucratic nonsense!"

Even Diona, prepared as she had been by her previous knowledge of his feelings, was shocked at the spoken admission. Alex stumbled back, although Jareth couldn't tell if it was the magic or his ire that made the healer retreat.

"If you won't help me then stay out of my way," Jareth snarled. Holding Sarah as gently as he was able, he strode toward the door. He would have to carry her to the spring. There was too much free magic floating around to attempt a transport.

All but running through the castle, Jareth prayed to the Fates that Sarah was still strong enough to do this. The magic that was threatening to rip her apart, both literally and figuratively made each step agony for both of them. Sarah sobbed against his chest, despite his care.

"I'm so sorry, Love," Jareth whispered as he began the long descent to the cavern where the Croí Foinse bubbled up from deep underground. "Just hold on, we're almost there. It'll all be over soon."

* * *

Pain.

Screaming, burning, twisting... agony.

Her entire world consisted of pain. Anguish and darkness interspersed with only brief snatches of bright coherence. During her blessedly few moments of clarity, Sarah wasn't sure which was worse- the dreams that waited for her in the darkness or the hollow pain in her soul that came with her brief moments of consciousness.

She had lost track of how long she had been like this, drifting between life and death as her body lost its ability to contain the power she had been given. Eventually, Sarah gave up trying to distinguish between the waking world and the nightmares that plagued her. Everything after that merged into a hazy state of perpetual  _now_. The longer she lived in this strange twilight, the harder it was for her to remember anything from before.

As she drifted through the endless moment between life and death, she became aware that she was surrounded by vague shapes. They flitted and and writhed just at the edge of her vision, blending with the haze and the forms of those actually around her in the real world. Some were monstrous, others seemed kindly, and either could change in an instant. She learned to be wary, eventually recoiling from any who came near, lashing out at friend and foe alike in her delirium.

Reality merged with dreams.

Physical beings came and went- manipulating her, torturing her, caring for her. It all blended together into one long, nightmarish experience. There were others who seemed to share this strange flat existence with her. Not physical, but not the monsters of her nightmares either. They were there but not there at the same time, and Sarah couldn't make out anything about them.

They watched her.

They circled around her, gathering close until there was nothing else, just shapes in the fog and the overwhelming sense of being watched. The feeling grew, fencing her in until she wanted to scream.

Gently, they held her back as she tried to hurl herself through their ranks, seeking to escape their constant surveillance. She lashed out, striking their restraining hands away until she broke through their cordon.

Once free, Sarah ran, sobbing in fear and confusion. The beings followed, calling to her, begging her to return to them.

"It's not safe!" their voices cried. "He will come for you!"

Sarah ignored them and ran on, feeling herself growing weaker with each step. Soon the pain that marred her physical existence was reaching into her dreams once more.

She stumbled but forced herself to keep running. Shadows rose around her, reaching for her with long arms. She shrank away and kept going, doggedly putting one foot in front of the other even as her pace slackened to a jog.

Sarah didn't know how long she ran. Time didn't seem to exist. Her steps got heavier and her pain more unbearable as she went on. Some instinct told her that she had to keep moving. She had a feeling that something very bad would happen if she stopped.

So she pushed on, forcing herself forward, occasionally crying out as the pain overwhelmed her and her vision grew dim and distorted, odd shapes and shadows superimposing themselves on the hazy landscape around her. The next time Sarah stumbled, she fell. Tumbling to the ground, she lay there, exhausted. Between one sobbing breath and the next, a dark figure was suddenly looming over her.

She looked up to see Jareth standing over her. A multitude of feelings crashed through her at the sight of him. Anger at the betrayal she could only just remember, relief that he was there, anxiety… desire…

"Hello Precious," he said. His smile was cruel and when he reached out to her, Sarah noted that he was not wearing gloves. His bare hands ended in talon like claws.

Those claws stroked her face, leaving burning lines as they brushed over her cheeks and she recoiled from the feeling of evil that radiated off of him. Her body twisted with pain. Pushing the pain away, she struggled to her feet, stumbling back a few steps. He followed, catching her around the waist as her legs threatened to give out and pulling her close. His features twisted, becoming less like the Jareth she knew with each moment. Weakly, she fought against his grip as another burst of pain, an echo from the waking world, streaked through her. As before, his touch burned in a way she couldn't explain. It burned, but it also aroused. The sensation left her feeling dirty… tainted. She tried to pull away.

With one hand he tightened his grip, groping her with the other. Panic trickled through her and she cried out, struggling to be free.

Ignoring her struggles, the Jareth that held her ducked his head and tried to kiss her. She turned away in disgust. "Jareth!" she exclaimed, her voice full of pain and anger.

Her cry of outrage was echoed by the nebulous beings that she had run from before. Their anger was a palpable presence at her back, growing closer and stronger as they caught up with her.

With a snarl, Jareth released her and stepped back as they approached. The feeling of evil that rolled off of him intensified and Sarah was overwhelmed with a smell that she had hoped never to encounter again.

The Bog.

Shivering and wracked with pain, Sarah looked up at the thing that had held her only moments before. It no longer bore any resemblance to the Goblin King. A being cloaked in shadows stood where the form of Jareth had been only moments before, its hulking body easily twice the size. Burning red eyes bored into hers and a sinister smile spread across its face as though it could feel the horror that took root and began to grow within her. A dark chuckle emanated from it as it watched her.

The pale shadows that had surrounded her before now massed at her back.

Sarah stumbled back from the creature before her. Unable to make her legs obey her, she fell to the ground, her pain growing with each moment. The thing that had been Jareth stepped toward her and reached out a beckoning hand.

"Come, Sarah. You belong with me."

The sound of its voice was at once sweet and terrifying. It's tone beguiled, yet the undertone spoke of death and decay. She shook her head silently, tears rolling down her face as her panic increased. She began to breathe hard. Sarah tried to scramble back away from whatever it was but could only flail about helplessly, too weak to fight any longer.

Tears streamed down her face and she sobbed in fear and agony. The shadows now surrounded her, attempting to shield her from the dark presence that stood in front of her, offering her its hand. For the first time since she became aware of them, Sarah could see them clearly. Men, women, and even children, all with grim faces, stood around her and stared angrily at the being that had taken Jareth's form. Vaguely she could hear their voices as they hurled threats at the evil entity.

It snarled back. "You cannot keep me from my chosen Queen." It pointed to her and Sarah stared back in terrified fascination, somehow attracted despite the repellant nature of the thing. "Already she begins to fall under my spell!"

A roar of anger answered his declaration, tearing Sarah from her translike stare. A shadow with the form of a child darted toward her as the rest of her shadowy entourage drew closer around her. It leaned over her and whispered in her ear.

"Remember Jareth's promise!"

Confusion filled her. She was tired... so tired of it all. The pain grew and Sarah struggled to think. The world around her began to dim and the pain that wracked her physical body began to intensify, even this strange world. Her whole body burned and the intensity of the pain knocked her onto her side. She writhed, her mind blank save for the overwhelming thought that it would be better to die than to live like this any longer.

Suddenly the memory she had been seeking for came to her.

_She and Jareth stood together in a strange stone landscape, surrounded by the remains of ropes and vines that had bound her until he cut her free._

_"You… you came," she had stammered, unsure of what to say to him._

_His half smile melted her heart as he answered, "You called."_

_He had pulled her close then, comforting her as she rested against his chest. She had felt so safe as he held her and said…_

_"I'll always be there, Sarah… if you call."_

"Jareth," she sobbed, "Please, Jareth…"

The evil creature howled with anger and lunged toward her, only to be forced back by the shadows that surrounded her. As it raged, a golden light began to glow off to the side, coming closer and closer.

Turning her bleary eyes toward this new light, Sarah could just make out another form coming toward her. It drew closer, seeming to fight for every step, and she recognized Jareth. As he approached, the world of shadows began to go dim and the shimmering golden glow around him faded away. She felt her body being lifted and she settled into his arms. She stared around her, the shadow world and the real world merging. All around her, she could see the nebulous warriors that had protected her standing unseen by the others who dwelt in the real world.

Her body exploded into agony so overwhelming that her muscles locked. She couldn't move or speak as Jareth strode through unfamiliar hallways and descended endless stairs.

"I'm so sorry, Love," she heard Jareth whisper as she began to slip into darkness. "Just hold on, we're almost there. It'll all be over soon."

 _Yes_ , Sarah thought as the blackness overtook her. _It will be over soon._

Diona hurried as quickly as she was able, following after Jareth and Sarah. When she heard her name being called, she paused and looked back. She was surprised to see Elder Samoth coming toward her. He was as old as she remembered, his snow white hair and coat glistening with melting snow.

"Have you only just arrived?" Diona asked.

Samoth nodded. "Yes. I hurried to see how my granddaughter was faring. The healer told me what Jareth is up to. Is the boy mad to do this without the go ahead from the Council? Was it really so bad?"

Diona blinked. "Your granddaughter?"

"Perhaps I should have called her our granddaughter," Samoth said slyly. "I recognized her as Deirdre's daughter the moment they led her into my tent. I adopted her into my clan to give her the safety and status of my name, among other things.

Diona nodded slowly, understanding what Samoth was telling her. "It's bad," she admitted, answering his previous questions. "The final stage has begun, I don't know that anyone could have done anything to delay this."

"We were giving her a poppy tincture in combination with valerian and skullcap to keep her sedated," Samoth said. "If he had waited just a little longer, we might have been able to pull her back from the edge just long enough to present the case to the Council."

Diona shrugged. "Young men in love are rarely rational."

"You know this?" Samoth gasped, his voice hopeful.

She smiled despite the seriousness of the situation. "He just confessed it."

A look of relief crossed Samoth's face at her assurance. "I was beginning to worry about that, especially after I got the betrothal announcement. Those two share a future, regardless of how it comes about. It will be easier on them if they begin with love, rather than being at odds. Although I am not certain our Sarah would agree. She is quite angry with him for keeping the betrothal from her."

"You've had visions." Diona stated, looking up at him with interest as they descended the steps together, following behind Jareth. She didn't even question how Samoth had the knowledge he did. The old shaman saw much and knew even more. Much like Diona herself, he kept his own counsel.

Samoth nodded as they entered the massive underground cavern that housed the spring and the Foinse Abbey. Diona looked around, sighing to see what had become of the formerly bustling complex. The Abbey stood silent, its stone walls blending seamlessly into the rough walls of the cavern itself. It loomed on the far shore of a small lake that had formed when the spring first broke through the rock and began to flow into the cavern. A path ran around the edge of the lake on their right, heading toward the long destroyed doors of the Abbey.

The only thing in the cavern that remained intact was a graceful, stone bridge arcing out over the water. The slender span led to a small, stony island on which a gazebo had been carved to house the spring itself. Water gushed from the side of the gazebo, spilling down a natural drop to fall musically into the lake, sending ripples over the surface of the water.

Without waiting for her, Samoth headed over the bridge toward the gazebo where Jareth had already taken Sarah. Even here, in the presence of the greatest source of magic in the Underground, the magic within Sarah threatened to consume her. Diona could hear her granddaughters cries of pain. They echoed around the cavern, reverberating off the walls until the entire cavern was filled with the haunting sounds of Sarah's suffering.

Diona hurried to catch up with Samoth. She entered the gazebo just behind the old centaur. Jareth turned, still clutching Sarah as he heard their footsteps on the stone.

"Don't try to stop me," he warned.

"Gently, boy, gently," Samoth said, make a placating gesture. "I can't say that there aren't some on the Council who aren't going to want your head for this, though. Are you sure this is the path you want to take?"

Jareth looked down at Sarah's face, still a mask of pain. "I'm sure."

"You understand that this is very likely to immediately bond Sarah to the Labyrinth as the Aírioch?" Samoth looked closely at Jareth. "This isn't something to take lightly. Even if the Council doesn't see this as an act of treason, you are going to be put in an awkward position. You will no longer be the sole authority here, you know that, right?"

Jareth hesitated for a moment, but no trace of uncertainty crossed his face. "I understand, but I won't change my mind. I- I refuse to watch her die, not when I can save her. I love her… I always have. I don't care what it costs me."

"Then, as a member of the Council, I give you my full support, Goblin King," Samoth said formally.

Jareth blinked for a moment before turning to Diona. She nodded and gestured toward the spring set into the floor of the gazebo. It was a natural looking basin of placid water. Several large stones made a rough staircase down into the water itself. The only movement was near the outlet on the far side of the gazebo where the water spilled out into the lake. Other than the gentle eddies made by the falls, the water was utterly still. Even the sounds of the waterfall seemed distant within the gazebo.

Diona watched Jareth take a deep breath and start toward the spring. When he got to the edge of the pool, he knelt, clearly intending to place Sarah into the water. As he did so, there was an ominous rumble. The ground shook and Sarah cried out. Her body ignited, glowing with magical flames as she screamed. Jareth screamed with her but did not let her go. Diona could see him strain, his muscles locked as he fought against the pain and the magic itself.

"Walk into the spring with her, Jareth!" Diona yelled as the ground shook again. Outside the gazebo, small rocks bounced down the walls, crashing to the ground or splashing into the lake.

With a grunt of effort, Jareth staggered to his feet. He walked slowly into the spring, fighting the magical energy that threatened to consume them both. As he submerged both his body and Sarah's into the water, Diona began to chant. To her surprise, Samoth chanted with her, his voice rising and falling in a different rhythm. He spoke in a language she did not understand, but she couldn't take the time to decipher it. She stepped up beside the centaur shaman, extending her hands out over the water of the spring as she lost herself in the ceremony of rebirth.

* * *

Bhandarth…

"Help!" Enna called weakly as she stumbled into the outskirts of the city. It had taken her far too long to reach the city on her injured leg. Behind her, still tied to the sledge, Ralok coughed and wheezed, his breath rattling in and out of his lungs. She didn't know how he hadn't yet died of blood loss and exposure.

"Help!" she called again.

This time, a nearby door opened. A head popped out, looking around for the source of the disturbance. When the dwarf laid eyes on her, his face registered his shock at their condition.

Enna slumped to the ground as the dwarf called back into the building and then came hurrying toward her. "What's going on, Miss?"

"Prince Ralok…" she gestured toward the badly injured form behind her. "Get… help."

Tired beyond belief, her head spinning and her eyes swimming with tears, Enna was at the end of her strength. Just as the blackness started to overtake her, she heard a cry of recognition from the dwarf who had approached them. As a flurry of movement sounded around her, Enna slipped into unconsciousness.

She was unsure of how much time had passed when she next became aware of what was going on around her. The first thing Enna noticed was that she was lying comfortably in a warm bed. The sound of a fire crackled not far away and her foot and ankle no longer throbbed as though they were being pummeled by a smith's hammer.

"She's awake, Your Majesty!" a voice called excitedly.

Enna blinked as King Andris appeared at her bedside.

"Enna, is it?" Andris asked her gruffly.

She nodded, unable to come up with anything to say in the face of this unexpected visit from the dwarven king.

"This kingdom owes you a great debt, young woman. You saved my nephew. I will not forget it."

"Thank-" Enna began, only to find her voice hoarse and dry. She coughed, trying to clear her throat. Andris lifted a cup from the table beside the bed and held it to her lips. She drank gratefully.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," she whispered, feeling her face go red as she was served by the king.

Andris waved away her thanks, looking grim as he set the cup aside.

"How is- how is Ralok?"

Andris raised a brow at her use of Ralok's name instead of his title or rank and Enna felt a blush sweep over her face once again.

"The healers tell me he will live, but his recovery will be hard. Tell me what happened."

Speaking slowly at first, Enna began with Ralok's plan to stop Mathyn from pushing further into the kingdom. The longer she spoke, the stronger her voice got. Andris listened without comment until she came to the scene at the top of the cliff. His face went dark as she described what she had seen and what she had theorized about the events that took place before Ralok had set off the explosives.

"There were stakes in the ground and Ralok- he had one still attached to his wrist by a rope when I found him. I think they- they staked him out and left him to die." Enna said, a tear slipping down her face at the memory of the horror she had felt when she realized what had happened to Ralok and his men.

"That traitorous bastard will pay for this," Andris snarled, his face going dark and his violet eyes flashing dangerously in the firelight. "I'll have Mathyn's head on a pike and set over my gate for the sport of the damned ravens!"

Andris stood and paced back and forth beside her bed. Enna watched him warily. After several minutes, Andris grew calmer, although he lost none of his grim determination. He listened patiently to the rest of her story. As she neared the end, there was a knock at the door. A messenger entered and whispered something in the King's ear.

Enna watched his eyes go wide in shock. He stood abruptly. "Forgive me, Enna for leaving like this. I've received an urgent message from the Goblin Kingdom. I must leave Bhandarth immediately."

Enna nodded and sighed. She would have liked to offer to go with him, but her current condition made that impossible. Events would have to move on without her help or interference for the time being.

The king paused on his way out the door and looked back at her. "As soon as you feel up to it, I expect you to continue to care for my nephew," he ordered. A smile crossed his face and he winked at her. "I hope he knows what a treasure he has in you, my dear. He would be a fool to ignore it."

Enna's mouth popped open in shock. Andris laughed and bowed to her before leaving the room. The echoes of his short bark of laughter ringing in her burning ears.

* * *

As soon as Jareth entered the Croí Foinse with Sarah, the magic pouring out of her grew less. The water soothed their burning skin and the glow of the power emanating from Sarah was extinguished. She went still, her eyes remained closed but her face relaxed as she floated in the cool water. Jareth held her gently, more for the comfort of having her close than for any need to support her weight now that she was in the spring.

He listened to the chanting of Diona and Samoth as they began the rebirth ceremony. A brief stab of anger shot through him at the sound of Diona's voice but he pushed it aside to focus on Sarah. His anxiety rose as he looked down at her, resting lightly in his embrace. If it had been anyone but Sarah, Jareth would have rejected this path. She was far older than the wished away children that usually underwent the baptism that would bestow the gift of a new life Underground. The amount of power that it would take to transform Sarah was going to be immense; and it would drain the resources of the Croí Foinse considerably. Regardless, Jareth couldn't bring himself to regret the decision, whatever the consequences.

As both Diona and Samoth carried on chanting, the water about Sarah grew warm and began to shimmer with the innate magic that welled up within the Croí Foinse. Slowly, the glow began to infuse Sarah as well. Her body grew brighter and brighter, until it was shining with an intensity that made his eyes water. He released his hold on her and covered his eyes as the dim cavern grew bright as midday around them.

Without warning, a current appeared in the previously still pool, pulling at him as he stood chest deep in the water. He braced himself as best as he could and reached for Sarah, but his hand closed on nothing. Shading his streaming eyes, he caught a glimpse of her just as she was pulled under the surface. The light that had lit the area was suddenly extinguished as she slipped beneath the water, leaving him blinking and half blind in the dim light. Desperately, he lunged for her, hoping to catch her before she sank out of his reach. He could feel no trace of her but, having lost his footing, Jareth was quickly pulled under by the same current that had taken Sarah.

Although quick to pull him under, the current did not drag him very far. Jareth found himself suspended in the dark water near the center of the small pool. He searched the water around him for some sign of Sarah, but all he could see was darkness, broken by the ruddy glow of the torches set into brackets on the columns of the gazebo. The reflection of the flames danced on the surface of the water above him, but did little to illuminate the dark depths of the pool beneath him. Deciding that he needed to go deeper, Jareth tried to swim to the surface for a breath, only to find himself locked in place.

Just as his lungs were starting to ache, a burst of power entered him, coursing through his body and healing the stress and damage caused by months of handling too much magic while repairing the Labyrinth. It was brief, but intense. Only when it was over could he move his limbs again.

Kicking hard, Jareth shot to the surface. He broke through, gasping and coughing as he pulled air into his starved lungs.

"Sarah!" He yelled hoarsely, searching the surface of the pool for her. He was vaguely aware that Diona and Samoth were bringing the ceremony to a close. As their chanting ended he turned to them.

"Where is she?" he demanded, treading water. Diona collapsed at the edge of the pool, leaning out over the edge to search the water for any sign of her granddaughter. Samoth looked grim.

"I saw her go under," Samoth said. "But I didn't see her come back up."

"No! Sarah!"

Jareth took a deep breath and dove under the surface. He went as deep as he dared, pushing himself to the limit as he searched the now warm water in ever widening circles. When he could no longer deny his body's need for oxygen, he swam for the surface. Once again, he searched the edges of the pool for Sarah. There was no sign of anyone else in the water with him.

"Maybe she was too far gone," Diona whispered. Tears streamed down her face, and Samoth placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"She's strong," he told her.

"But we've never tried this on someone who was so close to death," Diona objected. "She was so close to being destroyed by the power within her. We may have been too late."

A disturbance in the water drew all of the attention. Jareth waited in dreadful suspense, fearing the worst. His heart told him that she was still alive, but his mind refused to believe that anyone could survive that long under water.

The bubbling and churning of the water grew stronger. A visible dome appeared as the water welling up from below grew strong enough to stretch the surface tension of the pool. The water became hot and started to boil near the center as pure magic heated it from below. Wisps of steam rose from the surface. Jareth hissed and retreated to the edge of the pool, where the temperature was more moderate.

The agitation grew stronger and then Sarah's glowing form erupted, gasping, from the center of the pool. With a splash that sent waves lapping over the feet of Samoth and Diona, she crashed back down, briefly going under before surfacing once again and floating there, motionless.

Ignoring the scalding water, Jareth waded out to her. He reached her side and pulled her against his chest. To his surprise, her body was cool, almost to the point of being cold and she seemed to settle against him as though grateful for his warmth as he made his way to the rough stones that served as stairs. He grunted in surprise as he lifted her clear of the water. She had been lighter before. He had no trouble lifting her, but she was no longer the waiflike, suffering creature that he had entered the Croí Foinse with.

"Put her here, Jareth." Diona instructed as she spread a blanket on the floor of the gazebo to the side of the spring.

"Look at her eyes," Samoth breathed as Jareth approached them.

"What?" Jareth tried to lower her to the blanket but she whimpered and clung to him. So he sat down with her, cradling her on his lap.

"Oh my goodness!" Diona exclaimed, reaching out and tipping Sarah's face up so that Jareth could get a good look at her eyes.

Sarah's eyes were open, but she didn't seem to be aware of anything around her. Other than a decided point to her ears and a slight upturn in her eyebrows, Sarah looked mostly as she had before. Granted, all traces of her long illness had disappeared and she looked much as Jareth had imagined she would on that long ago day when he had brought her Underground, soaking wet from the rain and cradled in his arms.

It was in her eyes where her transformation was most apparent. They were still as green as they had been before. If anything, they were even more striking now that she had come into her Fae form. Encircling the green, and bleeding into it, was the bright blue ring that marked her as a Priestess of the Croí Foinse. As they looked at her, the colors faded slightly, the power dying down and rendering her eyes slightly less brilliant. Still, they were striking. It was a one of a kind combination that had never been seen anywhere before.

Jareth caught his breath and his heart pounded as he looked into her face. The realization of what had just happened hit him like a fist to the gut. She was still his Sarah, and yet, she was different. There was a sense of latent power about her that belied the innocence of her current condition. He felt arousal stir within him as he noted how her curves had filled out, erasing the evidence of her near starvation. Her face was still as beautiful as he'd thought it for years, but there was now a hypnotic sort of draw to her. It was obvious to him that her Fae nature would be as fiery as her humanity had been. He swallowed hard and willed the lewd thoughts that sprang up in his mind away. This was not the time.

Sarah sighed and a tremor ran through her body. A tension that had been almost imperceptible drained from her as the faraway look in her eyes disappeared. Without giving any sign that she was aware of them or her odd surroundings, Sarah's eyes closed and she went limp in his arms.

"What happened?" Jareth asked. He couldn't help the apprehension in his voice. He was in completely uncharted territory now. If what Samoth had said before was right, he was no longer the sole authority in the Labyrinth. Sarah had as many rights and responsibilities as he did now, and he was far from certain of her feelings for him. He knew that she would not thank him for the position he had put her in. She'd had no desire to wield any type of power here in the Underground.

Diona examined Sarah briefly, resting one hand on her head and another at the pulse point in the young woman's neck.. "She's asleep," the old Priestess said wonderingly.

"What about her eyes?" Jareth shifted, shrugging her head into a more comfortable position against his shoulder.

Diona shugged. "The line of the Aírioch and that of the Priestesses has never been merged before. I would venture to say that they are the natural result of her heritage." She brushed Sarah's wet hair back from her face gently. "There's no telling what she will be capable of when she learns to use her power."

Jareth swallowed hard. Her power. He supposed that Sarah was potentially as powerful as he was. The implications were not lost on him. She had been angry with him for many things over years, not least of which was concealing his betrothal from her. Now that she had power and status of her own, she might not… might not... want him. The thought nearly broke him. He had thought she returned his feelings. Their shared dreams had led him to believe that she cared for him as he did for her. But... what if more than her appearance had changed? He had been so focused on saving her that he had not even considered the aftermath.

"Come," Samoth said after the silence had stretched into several minutes during which they all stared down at Sarah in awe. The old centaur started out of the gazebo. "Let's get her somewhere warm and dry. I imagine that she will sleep for some time. She's been through quite an ordeal."

Lost in worries, Jareth stood mechanically and followed.


End file.
